


Meet the Shadowy Future

by DarkTidings



Series: Rooftop Shadow AU [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Season/Series 02, Attempted Sexual Assault, Beth Greene Lives, Mental Health Issues, POV Shane Walsh, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shane Walsh Lives, Slow Romance, Sophia Peletier Lives, Survival Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 57,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkTidings/pseuds/DarkTidings
Summary: Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy Future, without fear, and with a manly heart. - Henry Wadsworth LongfellowAU: Having a gun pointed at the back of his head by a pissed off woman on a hot Atlanta roof is enough to make Rick Grimes reassess his plans for the day.  But the group leads him back to his family.  Shane's world is rocked by Rick's return, leaving him grasping at anything positive to replace what's slipped beyond his grasp.
Relationships: Beth Greene/Glenn Rhee, Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier, Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Maggie Greene/Shane Walsh
Series: Rooftop Shadow AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020481
Comments: 355
Kudos: 160





	1. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The handcuffing of Merle Dixon ends very differently...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note for new readers: If you are reading this looking for Rick as a primary character, I might suggest _Life is Unknowable_ or _At Your Own Reckoning_. While this won't be a Rick bash, after a few chapters, the POV shifts away from Rick and won't return.
> 
> As a writer, I tend to be pro-Shane, pro-Lori, pro-Dixon... I don't find Rick relatable, so he usually gets to be a happy background character.

_Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy Future, without fear, and with a manly heart. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

** July 15, 2010 **

"If you're a smart man, you'll put that gun down real slow, deputy."

Rick Grimes spent twelve years with the King County Sheriff's Department before being shot and put in a coma. He knows more than the average man what the sound of a gun's slide sounds like as it chambers a bullet. 

He also knows what it sounds like when someone is deadly serious. The woman behind him is willing to shoot him if he doesn't comply. A glance toward the others on the roof shows they are concerned, but not alarmed, so they know her. Dixon's belligerence is completely gone now, the man relaxed and focused on his savior.

A dead man can't find his family, so he does the prudent thing, and slowly lowers the gun to the ground and slides it away from himself. He feels a trickle of sweat slide down his spine, and he prays that trusting the others’ lack of alarm is the right thing to do.

"Now toss me the keys to those handcuffs."

Now that concerns him more, because he knows holding the gun to Dixon's head was wrong. But setting him loose? That's a different story. "I don't think that's a good idea, ma'am."

He turns slowly in his crouched position, bringing her into his line of sight. She's average height for a woman, with dark hair, pale eyes, and dusky complexion. She's also drenched in sweat and looking beyond pissed. 

Her hands aren't wavering where she holds the gun on him. Unlike with Andrea earlier, the safety is definitely off on this gun. It’s a smaller gun, but a .380 fired at him from this range is just as deadly as a round from his own Python.

"Someone care to explain why I just nearly got eaten and climbed the damned building to find this shit going on?"

"Dixon was wasting ammo and stirring up the walkers," Andrea says.

"Not sure I consider saving my ass as wasting ammo, but I suppose it's good to know where I rate with you. Especially considering you had no part in obtaining the ammo he's using." Although she replies to the blonde woman, her gaze never moves from Rick's. "Or did you assholes forget I was _outside the fucking building_?"

Rick can't see the people behind him, but he suspects they might have, especially once the fight with Dixon started. "He attacked T-Dog. He was out of control."

She ignores him completely. "Tee? What happened?"

The black man approaches, coming into Rick's peripheral vision. "He was pissed off, screaming at us. Racist shit."

"And? Not the first time he’s been a raving asshole.”

"I took a swing at him."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't think that worked out well for you, did it?"

Rick is surprised when the man actually laughs. 

"Anyone else hurt besides Merle and Tee?" 

"He got in a couple of good ones on Morales and this new guy here," T-Dog explains.

Her eyes finally flick away from Rick to T-Dog, but Rick doesn't move. She's too hyperaware for him to trust that she won't just shoot him if he does. "This guy the reason I just had to pull a Usain Bolt down that street behind us?"

"Yeah. Glenn had to save his ass from the mess he got into."

"Dumbass. Give a cop a gun and his brain exits the building." 

Her comment makes Dixon react for the first time since Rick lowered the gun, as the big man starts laughing softly. The sound’s gravelly and hoarse. "Don't think he was actually gonna shoot me, sweetheart. Would've done it before he cuffed me."

It surprises Rick when she smiles, transforming relatively average features into pretty ones. But Dixon's assessment seems to settle her, since she ejects the round from the chamber and flicks the safety on before holstering the weapon. She sets an overstuffed hiker's backpack at Dixon's feet. 

The stray round goes into a pocket as she drops to a knee, reaching out to manipulate Dixon's head gently. The man allows the examination, posture content in a way Rick wouldn't have guessed possible with the keyed up anger of the fight.

"Close your eyes, Merle," she tells Dixon, cupping his face between her hands so that he's focused entirely on her. He nods, the movement wobbly, but closes his eyes.

“Now. What do you feel?”

“Your hands. Hot roof under my ass. Pipe diggin’ in my back. Handcuffs. Sun’s hot.”

"What do you smell?"

"Sour sweat. Jasmine perfume. Roofin’ tar."

Oh shit. Rick recognizes what she's doing, some sort of routine for PTSD or a panic attack. He wants to ease away from them, but he's afraid movement will disrupt whatever she's doing.

“Open your eyes.”

Dixon complies, and whatever angry demon drove him earlier is completely gone. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think the woman’s hypnotizing the man.

“What do you see?”

"M'guardian angel," he mumbles, so focused on her that it’s like the rest of them don’t exist.

"What year is it? Are you back with us, darlin'?"

"2010. Dead assholes are up and eating other assholes."

She laughs at the response and leans in to gently kiss Dixon's forehead. "Good that you're in the know. Don't want to have to dissuade you from chasing one of those dead ladies down like a bar skank."

"Jesus Christ, woman, I got better taste than that!"

"I dunno. Don't know I'll ever trust your judgement after Cori McAllister. She was twice your age, Merle, and you were over thirty."

As the man sputters, she turns to Rick and puts her hand out. "Keys? Or do I get to demonstrate just how insecure handcuffs are with the right skillset?"

Since Dixon seems calm under her guidance, Rick glances to T-Dog. The other man just shrugs and nods, so Rick hands over the keys. Once she uncuffs Dixon, she doesn't return the handcuffs or keys to him, tucking both down her shirt collar into her bra with a look toward him that just dares him to object.

"You need me to check you over, Tee?" she asks, shifting to sit beside Dixon against the pipe and massaging her legs. Dixon reaches out to push her hands away, dragging her legs across his lap and taking over the massage without a word.

"I'm good. Won't say no to an ice pack and some ibuprofen if we make it back to camp though."

"You got medical training?" Rick asks. Finding anyone with more than the bare minimum deputies are given seems like a miracle.

"Paramedic, before. Babysitter of city slickers who never went camping a day in their life now. You'd think after close to two months, they'd know how to identify poison ivy." She narrows her eyes, looking at Glenn, who looks suitably sheepish.

She closes her eyes, looking exhausted, reminding Rick that she said she was outside the building when Dixon was shooting. The others venture closer and Rick finally moves away, relieved when Dixon's attention stays on the woman.

Jacqui reaches for the backpack and peeks inside. "You hit the jackpot, Quinn. Glenn will be relieved." Rick peers over her shoulder to see more tampons than he wants to think about, but at least now he has a name for the newcomer without having to ask.

"Hotel is a motherload of supplies. Was headed back to let y'all know we might want to shift targets when the shooting started. Lots of toiletries, kitchen’s even still stocked with stuff we can use.”

"Nearly got yourself eaten for a bunch of tampons you don't even need," Dixon grumbles. He slips Quinn's hand in his and squeezes it, leaving just one hand rubbing at her calf.

"Well, I'll let you tell Harper why the camp's out of tampons then."

Dixon grimaces, like most men Rick knows when faced with the word tampon. "Dammit. Can't you make the girl stop growing up?"

Despite himself, Rick laughs. "How long have you two been married?"

Quinn's eyes open, and she quirks a brow at him, while Dixon gives him a puzzled look, scratching at the scruff on his face with his free hand. He hears snickers from some of the others. 

"We aren't married," Quinn says at last.

"Well, now that the deputy is as equally confused by Quinn and Merle as the rest of us," Glenn says, voice far too chipper for their situation, "how about we figure out how we're getting off this roof?"

Too bad it’s not as easy as the younger man makes it sound, but at least now he doesn’t have to figure it out with a raging redneck underfoot. 

Quinn reminds Glenn about the construction lot nearby and offers to shimmy down the building to go find a truck. The idea meets with a firm “fuck no” from Dixon, the only thing he adds to the conversation.

Glenn surprisingly agrees with Dixon. “We fucked up with you solo already, Quinn. I know where the lot is. Maybe need someone else to go with me, watch my back.”

“Alright.” Quinn takes her gun and ejects the magazine to reload the bullet from her pocket. It confirms to Rick that it’s a .380, but considering the magazine carries seven rounds, he was right not to risk being shot with it.

She offers it to Glenn. “You remember what I taught you, right?”

“Yeah. ‘Keep both hands on the damned gun, Glenn, you aren’t in some action movie.’”

Now that Quinn’s passed off her handgun, T-Dog retrieves Dixon’s rifle and hands it over to Quinn. “Figure it’s safer with you for the moment,” the big man explains.

She does a checkover and does a bit of a grope around Dixon’s vest, coming up with more ammo. “I’ll cover whoever leaves to get the truck.”

“So, how do we get there safely while they’re still swarming?” Jacqui asks.

Later, when they’re in the truck zooming to freedom, Rick has to wonder at his own masochism at not only suggesting the walker gut raincoats, but going along with Glenn. But once they’ve reached the camp, and he sees Quinn limping along with Merle Dixon’s assistance, he knows he owed the risk to these people for endangering them.

Three children swarm the returning pair, all Carl’s age or older, and his heart aches.

It’s watching their reunion that keeps him distracted, until he hears an all too familiar voice scream out “DAD!” Then his arms are full of his missing son, and Lori’s there, and beyond them, he can see Shane blinking away tears.

He was right to trust that his partner would save his family at all costs. He smiles at Shane, and the answering smile reminds him that despite the world gone to hell, his own world has all it’s missing pieces back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of three beginnings I wrote when I began the Homestead Georgia series. I ended up going with what became _Repair Broken Men_ , and that has been/still is a wild and wonderful journey. But the other little tales keep niggling in my mind, so I'm going to post them both. The canon timeline diverges as of the rooftop scene and goes wildly freeform from here.
> 
> POV starts out as Rick as a challenge to myself to actually write Rick (long before I did so in RBM), changes to Shane and stays there, with one exception chapter being Quinn's POV.
> 
> Discussions with another Shane fan reminded me how precious few fics there are that are pro-Shane. She posed a Toni Morrison quote that fits this niche of TWD fanfic well: "If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it."
> 
> On the pairings: Shane/Maggie - extremely slow building. Rick/Lori and Carol/Daryl are background pairings that don't feature heavily for the story as a whole. Glenn/Beth - it's the barest beginning toward the end, because I decided in the end to give them their own story, rather than cram them in as a background pairing for this one. Their story is told in the sequel, "At This Moment".


	2. Best Part of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick settles in at the quarry, trying to assess how everyone fits in.

** July 15, 2010 **

After the thrill of realizing his family is safe, that Shane saved them, Rick's mind wanders as they sit gathered around the fire pit. Merle, Quinn, and the kids he isn't sure are whose have their own fire in a little sub-camp. Unlike the main fire, theirs reflects very little light, encircled by a stone circle higher than the firewood. 

Merle looks half asleep in a camp chair, a dark-haired girl about Carl's age leaning against his legs as she plays Uno by firelight with a teenage boy and a blonde girl also sitting on the ground. The teenage boy resembles Merle enough that he's certainly a Dixon, but the little blonde looks nothing like anyone else.

Quinn is folding laundry, using the other camp chairs as laundry tables. A jet black German Shepherd looking dog dozes by her feet. He saw a grey-haired woman slip into one of the tents earlier.

Shane notices where his attention has drifted and laughs. "Brother, don't even try to figure that one out."

Carl shifts against Rick and huffs. "It's not that hard, if you just be polite."

Rick feels Lori stiffen before she moves away from his side to look down at Carl. "Tell me you haven't been playing with those kids, Carl."

"There's nothing wrong with them, Mom. I'm the only kid not allowed to play with them. And you let me play with Sophia before they moved over there."

Lori looks to Miranda and her husband as if betrayed. "They aren't the type for your kids to be playing with."

"Other than the boys being a little older, I don't see anything wrong with them," Morales says. "Harper, Eliza, and Sophia get along well since they are all about the same age, and all of them are patient with Louis."

Rick thinks he might want to intervene before Lori causes the sort of tempest she was known for back home. "How old are the kids?"

Carl answers, glancing at his mother with a puzzled expression. "Harper is eleven and Jesse is fourteen. Micah's seventeen, but he's their uncle, not their brother. They used to be from Louisiana. Sophia's twelve, but she and her mama aren't Dixons. Her mama went to bed already."

"And where are Micah's parents?" Dale asks. Rick thinks this may be the most detail any of the adults have gotten, from the expressions he sees.

"He and Quinn don't have the same mom, just the same dad. He died when Micah was a kid and he's lived with Quinn ever since."

"What about Merle?" Rick asks, curious.

The boy squirms a little, as if realizing he's maybe sharing personal information he shouldn't, but a nudge from Rick makes him continue. "He's a cousin somehow. Merle's grandpa is Quinn's great-grandpa."

Well, that explains why they looked a little weird when he asked about them being married. He wouldn't want anyone thinking he married his cousin either. It also explains why she was willing to shoot him when she thought Merle was in danger.

"They pulled into camp here about a week after Atlanta was bombed," Shane explains. "Wasn't sure about them at first, because Merle sure as hell doesn't give a good impression, and neither does his brother. 

"But once I saw there were kids with them, I wasn't putting them back out on the road. The kids are damned polite, and Quinn generally gets along with everyone. Jesse, the teenager Carl mentioned, isn't in camp. He's out hunting with Merle's brother, Daryl."

"Overnight?" Rick isn't sure about camping before there were dead up and walking. A man and a teenager out on their own in this seems risky.

"Bigger game is getting scarce closer into camp, the Dixons say, so they were planning on tracking further out. They rotate hunting usually, one of the adults and one of the kids going out. Whoever's left usually does a forage for plants and mushrooms in the morning, and Quinn does runs with Glenn every other day." 

Shane gestures toward the dog. "Figured having a dog's senses around can't hurt. They keep him fed off the parts we don't eat and any leftovers we don't finish. I think even he's getting sick of squirrels though." Everyone laughs at that. 

"They aren't the only ones in a separate camp," Rick notes, glancing towards a lone male that also has his own fire. Unlike the Dixons' happy domestic scene, this man looks half-drunk and sullen.

"That's Ed. He's an abusive bastard, but I haven't thrown him out of camp because I'd rather keep an eye on him than have him wandering around, maybe sneaking back in," Shane explains. 

"He's a useless asshole, but he feeds himself off MREs and the Dixons took in his wife and daughter after Merle beat the shit out of him for knocking Carol around. Sophia, the little blonde girl over there, that's his daughter. Her mama, Carol, already went to bed."

Rick makes a mental note to keep an eye on the man. At least Merle, with his obvious PTSD issues, has someone who can talk him down. Man like Ed Peletier only has fear of other men to make him balk.

Movement at the Dixon fire draws his attention back. The card game is finished, although how much of that was the game ending and how much was Quinn dropping stacks of clothes unceremoniously on her family members remains to be seen. She's heading toward their fire now, a stack still in her arms. 

Without the long sleeves she wore in the city, he can see her arms are covered in intricate tattoo work. He can't get a good look in the firelight, but he glimpses a lot of purple and cursive text among wildlife and flowers. It's like she turned her arms into little gardens.

Standing next to Shane, he notices her skin is at least two shades darker than his best friend's. It's another mystery, with Merle's racist ranting, because he would bet his now missing deputy's hat that Quinn's biracial.

"Took yours the other day so Carol wasn't looking after half the camp," Quinn says, handing Shane the clothes. "A few of you fellas could do with a lesson in how to wash your own dirty underwear."

"The men are needed to keep us safe," Lori interjects.

"Or you could quit pretending it's the fifties and you're some sort of delicate princess," Quinn replies. She's still wearing the shoulder holster from earlier, and Rick wonders if she's always armed, like Merle and Shane are, as well as the older Dixon boy.

"Not that I ever recall seeing you down at the lake washing so much as a single sock. Maybe with your husband back, you'll stop treating Carol as your personal maid. Next time I see you dump your laundry in her basket, I'm going to set the shit on fire."

Lori is so angry she looks like she is going to choke on it. Quinn just sets her hands on her hips, her entire posture just daring the woman to challenge her. Rick looks around the others and surprisingly, finds little sympathy from the other women and the men trying their best to look invisible.

"I help with laundry!"

"Prissing around hanging one shirt to everyone else's four or five isn't helping, unless you're a preschooler. It's looking busy so someone doesn't ask you to do something else."

Dale frowns, but looks concerned about Quinn, not Lori. "Did something happen in camp today? I checked in with the kids for you."

"Only a certain overprivileged woman trying to convince my eleven-year-old daughter that she's not appropriately feminine because she and Micah were fishing when she dumped even more laundry off on Carol and Sophia. Talk to Harper like that again, Mrs. Grimes, and I'll show you exactly how inappropriately _masculine_ my response will be.”

Rick’s pretty sure the threat’s a valid one, and it’s not going to end like some high school girl fight with slapping and hair pulling if she does go after Lori.

Quinn heaves a sigh. “Carol's got enough on her plate without you using her to skip out on chores. You're worse than Ed, because you're taking advantage of that damage he's done to her self-esteem all these years. I tried to let her handle it, but you dragged my kids into it today, so now I'm making it my business."

Lori is gaping, seeming at a loss for words.

"If it's a problem, I can take care of my own laundry," Shane manages, looking between Lori and Quinn. Rick isn't sure if he's trying to play peacemaker between them or just afraid he'll get drawn into the fight.

"I don't mind if we're already going down there and you're busy. But other than Glenn and the men from my own family, all of y'all seem to think a magic fairy is washing your socks. Just make sure you know who that magic fairy is and thank her appropriately."

"We'll make sure to do that," Dale says, voice gentle. He actually wins a smile off the young woman, who pats him on the shoulder before fishing down the front of her shirt and tossing Rick his handcuffs and keys.

"Might want to keep those safe, deputy. Glenn, come see me for breakfast." She's gone as fast as she arrived.

"Why the hell does she have your handcuffs in her bra?" Lori sputters. "What happened in Atlanta today?"

Rick knows he's blushing, especially with the questioning looks from those who weren't in Atlanta. "It's not like it sounds." He summarizes what happened, trying for neutrality in the tale.

"So, what I'm hearing is that Rick stirred up the walkers, and everybody but Merle forgot Quinn wasn't in the building?" Dale asks.

Glenn looks sheepish, but nods. "It's a miracle if she's willing to go on a supply run with me again. At least I think that's why I'm invited for breakfast. It'll suck if she won't pair with me again because she's the only one who can climb like I do."

"You two normally do the supply runs?" Rick asks, remembering Shane implying that. But even as a pair, it's got to be a nerve wracking job.

"Yeah. We take her SUV a ways in, park it, and use the backpacks to haul loads back and forth to the SUV. A lot of the buildings have roof access and it's safer to move across the tops of the buildings when we can. Not everyone can manage the height."

Shane shifts. "I asked them to take the extra people this trip because we were hoping to get some necessities from that department store and do it fast. No one here packed clothing to survive months away from home, except maybe Dale."

“How did Quinn end up outside the building?”

“Quinn was on foot to scout and maybe raid the hotel and she was going to grab one of those work trucks from the construction lot that we ended up going to. Just without all the walker guts involved."

"That reminds me. Anyone get those supplies from her when we got back?" Jacqui asks. "She did a good job cleaning out the ladies' essentials in the amenities storeroom. I'd bet she stuffed a couple hundred tampons in that thing, plus some other hygiene stuff."

"Bag's sitting over there by her camp chair," Glenn points out. "You wanna go get it?"

No one seems willing, so Rick figures the holy grail of women's products will just stay in the Dixon camp for now.

Carl yawns broadly and Rick laughs. "How about we get you off to bed, son?"

And that's the best part of his day. He can offer to put his son to bed, even if it's in a tent in a quarry. He can't imagine a better end to his confusing, horrifying week out of the coma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a new chapter two days later is within the week, right? ;)
> 
> I've got enough chapters ahead on this one that I thought I would go ahead. Coarser Souls probably will post a new chapter in a few days. I'm not as far ahead on it.
> 
> Everyone was intrigued by the mystery of Quinn and Merle, so here's a small part of the story.


	3. Migrating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick explores the quarry camp and finds out the walkers are beginning to migrate.

** July 16, 2010 **

The next morning, Rick sleeps later than he planned, and the sun's position looks like mid-morning when he emerges from the tent he woke up alone in. There were fresh clothes for him to wear, but he knows from the fit they must be donated from one of the other men in camp. No way anything of Shane's would fit this well.

He doesn't see Shane or his family anywhere in sight, but when he spots his uniform hanging on one of the clothes lines near the Dixon camp, he grimaces. After Quinn's very strong ultimatum about the camp laundry, he isn't sure he wants to know who washed it. 

The grey-haired woman he assumes is Carol is busy checking garments and taking down the ones that are dry, passing them to Micah, who is sorting them into a series of baskets with labels on them.

"Good morning, deputy," the teenager calls out. 

Carol turns slightly, smiling over her shoulder. "Your uniform's about dry. Maybe another half hour. If you don't want to wear it around camp, I can scrounge up another outfit donation so you've got a set to alternate at least."

"You didn't have to do my laundry, but thank you," Rick says. "Who do I thank for the loan?"

She waves away the thanks. "I know that Quinn is upset on my behalf, but if I'm already down there, I don't mind, and the kids and I had a few things necessary already. Besides, we didn't wash all of this. I'm just babysitting the drying process, if you notice the labels on the baskets."

It's Micah who answers the loan part of the question. He's Rick's height, and just growing into a set of shoulders Rick thinks will rival Shane and Merle eventually. He's got the same dark hair and pale, peridot green eyes as his sister, but lighter skin. 

"Shirt's Dale's, but it's from packages Glenn and Quinn found a week ago. We just washed them up and sorted them out to those who needed a spare or two. Pants are mine. Socks and underwear are new. Hadn't made it into anyone's possession yet."

"Shane mentioned they were raiding the department store because people were short on clothing."

"Most folks didn't pack for this long outdoors," Carol replies, unclipping a couple of thin towels and tossing them to Micah. "Jacqui recommended that store because they had a floor with a bunch of men's work clothes, and if we put any more patches on some of the men's pants, they'll just be wearing one big patch."

"That'd probably make Daryl happy," Micah remarks. Carol giggles, causing the teenager to smirk at her. The amusement lights up her features, making him realize she's a lot younger than he initially thought.

"Where is everyone?" Rick can see Dale and Jim are dismantling the sports car for parts and T-Dog's up on the RV on watch. Other than Ed smoking by his tent, no one else is in sight.

"Quinn and Glenn headed out at first light to scout out if that swarm moved on so they can finish yesterday's supply run. Lori's over with Andrea and Amy at the other clothes lines, hanging up the wash they did as we were coming back up with these. Can't see them from here because of the RV. 

"Carl's out with Sophia and Jacqui. They were going to see if any blueberries were left at that patch the kids found yesterday. Shane's gone to get more water. The Morales are all down at the lake with their own round of laundry. Merle and Harper took the trash haul off just a bit ago."

At Rick's puzzled look, Micah elaborates on Carol's last statement. "Don't want wild animals wandering up after scraps, and we definitely don't want the bags from the composting toilets staying around, so somebody drives all the trash out of the quarry. There's an old gas station we use as a dumping ground."

He thanks them for the information and moves onward to find Lori. He hesitates at the nose of the RV, just out of their line of sight, watching. Lori's not as slow as Quinn's comments last night would imply, but since all three women seem to be gossiping more than they're actually hanging laundry, he isn't sure it's a good comparison. They definitely don't have the smooth efficiency he's just witnessed between Carol and Micah.

He approaches at last and kisses his wife on the cheek, basking in the bright smile she gives him. "Morning, officer. You sleep okay?"

"Better than I have in a long time, actually."

"Well, we all figured you could use it. I see you found the clothes."

"Yeah. Came across Carol and Micah on the way and they offered more if I needed them."

Lori frowns a little, but seems to make an effort to push the expression away. "Yeah, Carol says that Micah and Daryl are the only ones who wear the same size pants you do. Might have to make do with a belt since I doubt the boy can spare too many and Daryl..." She sighs and the other two women laugh.

"Micah did mention patches..." Rick ventures, which makes even Lori laugh.

"If we hadn't seen more than one pair on the line at the same time he's wearing a pair," Andrea says, "we'd still think he only owns one. Every single pair is identical and probably as old as Carl."

"Only regret about sleeping in is that I didn't get to ask Quinn and Glenn to look for the bag I dropped in Atlanta. I cleaned out the station's gun locker, and I'm thinking we could use those. Plus it's got a walkie from the station, and I promised the man and his son who saved me that I'd check in. I can't let them come into Atlanta unprepared like I did."

Lori hums thoughtfully. "Could monitor the radio. They check in periodically if they're doing a longer run."

"Yeah, I offered to go out with them, and so did T-Dog, but they said they'd rather have the space for the supplies."

"I'm glad you didn't go," Amy declares, smacking her sister with a wet shirt. "I wanted to beat the crap out of Shane yesterday because he said we couldn't spare anyone for a rescue run."

"Hate to say it, but he was right. Sparing more people when there's already so few here was too risky," Rick says. "We got ourselves out."

"Still glad it was you and Glenn that got to wear the walker raincoats and not me."

Rick grimaces, remembering the utter stench combined with the gut-churning fear of walking among the dead, especially once the rain came. "It is not an experience I care to repeat."

Whatever reply Lori is about to make is interrupted by Carl yelling for his parents, obviously frightened. They run into the main part of camp, and Carl gasps out about the walker in the woods. Sophia and Jacqui nod anxiously in agreement. 

Shane's back in camp, and Rick grabs a shovel and follows his lead as he and the other men run toward the direction Carl pointed out while Lori stays behind to frantically check over their son.

The frenzied activity of beating on the walker ends when Dale decapitates the thing, and as the adrenaline rush fades, Rick feels foolish that they all beat on it like that. The head rolls around, teeth still snapping, and Shane brings his shotgun to bear when a rustling sounds in the woods.

Rick's glad for Shane's hesitation in firing when a boy not a lot older than Carl emerges and immediately takes several steps back as Shane lowers his gun with an apology. 

He's undoubtedly related to Quinn, skin bronzed dark by sun exposure and making the light colored eyes stand out. The main difference is that his dark hair is dyed a midnight blue. He's got a compound bow in his hands, but wears a small pistol similar to Quinn's in a holster.

The man that pops out of the woods behind the boy makes identifying him as Merle's brother pretty easy by the tirade he unleashes at the dead walker who ruined his deer. He finishes by shooting the walker in the head, admonishing them for leaving it, and Dale's attempt to calm him only seems to rile him more until the boy calls his attention back to the deer.

They mournfully debate whether or not their kill is still edible. Rick feels squeamish at the thought, but thankfully, Daryl seems to take Shane's advice on it not being safe.

"Need to get rid of the deer before it attracts more," the redneck says at last. "And somebody needs to drag that poxy bastard off before the smell gets to camp."

"Jim and I will get rid of our unwanted guest," Dale volunteers. He gingerly picks up the head by the hair, dropping it onto the walker's chest. They each take a leg and start pulling it away.

Daryl passes the string of squirrels he carries off to Jesse, who shifts his bow to one hand since he wears a small backpack and can't sling it to his back like Daryl did the crossbow. 

"Take those back to camp and get them cleaned up. See if the girls can help you. Don't be putting extra work off on Carol since she's gonna be feeding you later."

The boy grins and trots off, leaving Daryl to sigh and start pulling bolts out of the ruined deer. That done, he turns and looks at Rick, frowning. "You're new."

"Rick Grimes." Rick offers a hand, despite Daryl's general griminess. He can tell now about the teasing from the others regarding Daryl's clothing. Well worn doesn't even begin to describe it. 

Jesse's clothing was fairly normal for a teenage boy, but he was equally as dirty from the hunting trip. The least Rick can do is not be bothered by a dirty handshake when the man's attempting to feed the camp.

"Grimes. Like Lori and the boy?" the redneck asks, arching a brow as he looks towards Shane.

The other deputy nods. "He wasn't as dead as it appeared when we had to evacuate. Made it to Atlanta yesterday and our group had to save him from himself."

"M'Daryl, but you probably know that if you been in camp." He looks back to the deer with a grimace. "Dammit."

"How about me and Rick drag it off and you go on back to camp? No sense in having to do more work after tracking it for days," Shane suggests.

The other man shrugs and walks off toward camp without any farewell. 

"And now you've met Daryl. Merle refers to him as the sweet one." Shane grins as he grabs the deer's hind legs. "You grab the front ones and we'll see how far out we can drag it. Think there's a ravine not too far we can roll it down. He's right that we sure as hell don't want fresh blood attracting any more walkers if they're leaving the city now."

Rick grabs on to do his part, mulling over the worry of the walker so far out of the city. If they're migrating, like Dale and Jim suggest, the camp isn't secure anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a bridge chapter, but it introduces the two missing Dixons briefly. One more Rick chapter, then the POV shifts to Shane.


	4. A Goal in Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick, Shane, and Quinn lead the group to a decision about leaving the quarry camp.

**July 16, 2010**

When Quinn and Glenn return, they are greeted with enthusiasm, because the cargo van is full to bursting with camping gear strapped on top, along with the bag Rick dropped in Atlanta.

"I'm guessing y'all didn't do all this on foot?" Rick asks as Glenn unstraps the top load. He takes one end of the bag, knowing it's damned heavy, helping the younger man drop it to the ground. 

"Nah. We scouted everything on foot, but when it was mostly clear, we saw that the loading bay door was still open and loaded what we needed from there. Decided it was faster and safer that way after yesterday, plus I didn't really want to see Quinn have to go through another sprint like that if we got in trouble."

Rick glances over to where the woman in question is greeting her kids. It seems like a ritual, that they check out she is okay, one that even Sophia is taking part in. "Everything go smoothly then?"

"Yeah. Even stopping for the guns was pretty easy, other than lifting that heavy bag up on the roof. Had to kill a straggler before we got the straps in place, but that was it." Glenn grins and reaches into the car, grabbing something off the seat. "Thought you might appreciate this though."

Laughing, Rick plops his hat on his head. "Didn't think I'd see this again. Thanks."

"Figured you needed it to match the weirdo gun," Glenn teases. "Not the only present we got for you though. They gave us your size based off your uniform, so we packed a duffel up just for you. You may have enough spare underwear for a month though."

"Might want to share that out with the rest of camp then."

"Don't worry. We packed two more duffels with nothing but underwear and socks, one for the ladies, one for the guys." At Rick's surprised expression, Glenn only laughs. "Hey, we were in a department store with a good supply of bags. We figured clean socks and underwear are about as necessary as food and medicine."

"Can't argue much with you there." Rick realizes he's keeping Glenn cooped up at the SUV, and the kid's got to be tired. Others are unloading the supplies along some method they already seem to have down pat, so he feels a bit surplus aside from his bag. 

He shoulders it and lets Glenn be drawn into banter with one of the ladies exclaiming over the fact that they brought back a large quantity of toilet paper and brings the bag over to where Shane is talking to Quinn.  
He's a little surprised to realize she's giving him an update on the state of things in the city. The weird vibe he got off the general camp towards the Dixons, as well as his own encounters with Merle and Daryl, made him think Glenn would be the one questioned. 

But then again, he was just thinking of Glenn as a kid, so he can see where his partner would maybe prefer the assessment of someone their own age. As a paramedic, Quinn's first responder training would have her far more observant than the average civilian.

"I think it's time to start giving serious thought of getting out of the camp," Quinn is saying, voice pitched so that the others bustling around won't overhear. "The city's got more supplies, but we're having to go further in and risk more to get them. And winter's not so far away that we don't need to be thinking about it."

"I'm not objecting. You know I've wanted to go for Fort Benning, but everyone's afraid to get back out on the road with no confirmed destination."

They both look at Rick as he approaches. Shane's smile is welcoming. Quinn just looks really tired. 

"What about the CDC? Anyone tried going by there?"

Quinn shakes her head. "Too far out from here to waste the gas on a wild goose chase. Even if they're still standing, protocol isn't going to let them do much to help. Call me a conspiracy nut if you want, but world ending plague? CDC's the first place I'd have locked down even if I had to watch the whole state fall around it. Bombing Atlanta proves the government's not out to help the average citizens, if there even is any government anymore."

"So what do you suggest?" 

"Well, Shane's idea about Benning's worth exploring. If Benning fell or is locked up tight, it's at least an area of the state with some options. There's West Point Lake, although that's more campgrounds, but one of those peninsulas out in the water..." She drifts off in thought.

"What kind of peninsulas?" Shane asks. He looks intrigued, and Rick can just imagine how his partner's mind is formatting a strategy.

"This place I know... it'd be perfect. Real perfect." Quinn's expression goes from quiet to animated so quickly that Rick can't help but smile in response. "West Point Lake's Corps of Engineers, so their campgrounds are really basic stuff, no cabins or anything. But they lease property... there's a massive Scout camp on one, but that would be too big for us and it's mostly intended for tents anyway.”

She taps her chin, thinking it over. “But one of the little peninsulas is this Unitarian retreat place. They run summer camps, corporate retreats, whatever. My job does this team building thing there once a year because the boss is involved with the project somehow through his church. And it would be perfect. 

"Solar power, wood heat, organic farm. They've got one big dining hall, a small lodge, a couple of family cabins, bunkhouses... and the entry point to their part of the peninsula isn't any wider than here to the quarry lake."

Despite the fact that he really does want to try the CDC, Rick can't help but think the property sounds like exactly what they'd need. "Wouldn't a place like that have people there? Staff at least, even if they weren't hosting any guests?"

"Maybe. But if it's the folks that were there before, I can't see that they wouldn't allow folks to stay. And honestly, their permanent staff isn't that big either. I wouldn't count on them having stayed. They evacuated the areas by the state line to Columbus. 

"You weren't awake for just how bad the death tolls were from the flu. They would have cancelled any youth camps they had planned. Government was pretty solid on shutting down things like that." 

She shudders and Shane looks uneasy too. Rick wonders just how many nightmares he missed out on. 

"Doesn't that lake dam up the Chattahoochee?" Shane asks. "You think the dam's still working?"

"Depends on what sort of shape they left it in. So if flooding happened in Atlanta like last year, yeah, we'd need to keep an eye on water levels. But we'd be above the dam, so if it does fail, and it eventually will, the worst case scenario is that our little peninsula ends up a hill among a bunch of dry land with a river nearby."

Rick and Shane exchange looks. It does sound like a viable backup if Fort Benning isn't what Shane hopes it'll be. "Walkers can't swim, Rick," Shane says, mulling it over.

"Back in just a minute." Quinn dashes off, returning with a medical kit and digging in the pocket. She pulls out a tablet and grins. "I keep a charge on this because I've got some medical e-texts on it. Doesn't take long on a solar charger and if I'm not using it, battery holds up pretty well powered off. But more importantly, it has the paperwork from my last work retreat." 

She leads them to a table, sitting the tablet down now that it's powered on so they can all three look. They're getting a lot of curious looks now, having a seemingly useless electronic device out, but no one's approaching yet.

Quinn opens her email and quickly finds what she is looking for. She opens the PDF and scrolls through the brochure to the camp map, pointing out each feature as she goes. 

"You drive through the farm to get to the actual retreat. It's fenced there on either side of the farm area to keep wildlife out, and their own critters in. They free range chickens and other poultry. They also have goats, sheep, and rabbits. If none of the staff stayed, I don't know if any of the animals would still be there, but protected like they are, I'd imagine the poultry would be fine, at least.

“The road leads into a big loop. On this side is the office and a staff house that the maintenance guy lived in. Then there's the three bunkhouses that are set up for when they run summer youth camps. Sleeps eight plus a counselor's room. Next is a bunch of cabins that are really more like duplexes. Each side has a pair of twin beds and the world's tiniest bathroom. 

“And when I say tiniest, I mean it. Sneeze and you'd knock yourself out on the showerhead if you're over six foot. There's twelve of those. These two odd looking buildings out at the point are the mini-lodges. Four bedrooms with double beds in each and two shared bathrooms. The actual lodge is ten rooms on the second floor, all with twin beds."

She pauses to let them take it in. Rick sees the potential, but it's Shane that does the math. "We could house a hundred people or more, without changing a thing," he says.

"Yeah. And the fact that it's a group dining hall helps with supplies and meals."

Rick notices some of the buildings on the map. He sees blacksmith, kilnworks, weavers, pottery, and other locations he associates with a childhood visit to Williamsburg. "This place was one of those back to basics retreats, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, sorta, but modernized, thus the solar power and that all the cabins are heated with more modern systems than just fireplaces for wood heat. The brochures don't even begin to explain how nice this'll work if the place is still standing and available."

"Why didn't you mention it before?" Shane asks.

"It's a long trip on a maybe to a fairly rural area. Some might think the mountains would be a better option or even the Gulf Coast. There are a lot of lodges and even a couple of state parks that would probably work well for our purposes. If I was just going to pick a place without knowing its current status, I'd go north.”

She sighs. “But if we want to check out Benning anyway, it'll be right there. And if it's not an option, might still be time to head north since that part of the state should be less congested with abandoned cars and walkers both."

Rick waits for Shane to think it over, watching as his partner takes the tablet and looks over the information in more detail. "You said there's a Scout camp nearby too? They'd have staff buildings, dining hall... if Benning's gone, and this one too, that's an idea. We can sleep in the dining hall if we have to."

Quinn looks at Rick expectantly. He's not entirely sure how his opinion got to be so important so fast in her eyes, considering yesterday she was willing to shoot him, but he realizes she has children to protect just like he does. And he's the only one of them who wanted to go in the opposite direction.

His indecision apparently brings most of the others to find out what they're discussing, Lori among them. So while Quinn and Shane explain to their new audience the concerns about walkers leaving the city and why they think heading west is a good idea, Rick watches the reactions of those he knows will be deciding factors. 

Dale, Glenn, and T-Dog are easy yeses, he thinks. Jacqui and Morales are asking interested questions, and from what he's seeing Jim will follow Jacqui's lead. The holdouts are Andrea and Lori.

"So why aren't you trying to convince us?" Lori asks Rick. "You must have an alternate plan."

To give her credit, she does know him well. "Was seeing what everyone thought. I was wanting to check out the CDC."

"Why can't we do both?" Dale asks.

"Because it's a lot of gas to waste if the CDC is locked down or gone," Jacqui answers, surprising Rick. 

At his questioning look, she shrugs. "I lived in Atlanta. The CDC was maybe an hour's drive from here, before, but now? You're talking about driving through a bunch of areas that were heavily populated before. Depending on how jammed up the roads are, it could take days, not hours, and it's a place that isn't likely to be allowed to let untrained civilians in anyway. It's also in the complete opposite direction of where these two are recommending we go."

Shane looks in agreement with Jacqui. "I know heading towards Fort Benning is heading toward one of the biggest population centers, but we don't have to take the whole group that far. Find a safe camp a ways out and then scout it."

"Anyone even familiar with that part of the state other than that Columbus is on the Alabama border?" muses T-Dog. "Other than Quinn going to that lake?"

"I am," Morales offers, glancing toward Miranda and receiving a nod. "I was stationed at Benning, years back. We were talking about returning home to our family in Birmingham. Columbus would be out of the way, but safer than us traveling directly from Atlanta to Birmingham alone. It would at least get us to the border, and if Benning survived, more information before we travel onward. But I am mostly familiar with the interstate."

"We have a road atlas." Quinn darts off, returning to the discussion with a giant Rand McNally spiral-bound atlas. She quickly flips it open to Georgia, showing there is a network of smaller state highways possible.

"What do we do if Benning and these other two camp places don't work out?" Lori asks. "It's a long way to travel with no guarantee."

"Head north," Shane says, taking up Quinn's suggestion from before. "Look for a place in the western part of the state, but aim for the mountains if we can't."

"We can try the state parks." Quinn points where there are a few, embellished with hand drawn stars. "Harper was doing the Junior Ranger thing, so there's even a booklet and everything in the car that was in there when we evacuated. Several have cabins or cottages and most are isolated enough from the cities to be safer, like Red Top Mountain up by Lake Allatoona."

"That would work for us," Morales says. He gives Rick a very serious look. "I don't think Benning is going to be running. I think we'll find that Columbus was bombed much like Atlanta. It's why we've hesitated to travel to Birmingham."

"You really think we're that much on our own?" Andrea asks. She looks apprehensive when several people answer affirmatively and sighs. "Then if Dale's going, Amy and I will opt for the Benning idea. At least if we know a military installation that size is gone or not, it gives us a better idea of the bigger picture."

"Rick?" Lori asks. She's sensed the way the decision is heading. Rick takes her hand and squeezes reassuringly. 

He really wants the information he knows the CDC is bound to have, but leading all these people into a once highly populated area of a city that was bombed isn't really a viable option. Sending a smaller group might be, but that leaves the most defenseless sitting in tents with the potential for walkers to be migrating.

"Let's try Benning. If the CDC manages a solution, they'll surely be looking for survivors," he says at last. 

Shane's apprehensive look vanishes and his partner looks relieved that Rick trusted his suggestion. He ignores that niggling apprehension that something's not quite right. Shane has never been a man to hesitate about convincing Rick of anything.

When everyone else chimes in to say they'll go, it leaves Rick, Shane, Glenn, and Quinn to start planning. A trip like this will take resources, but Rick feels a sense of relief that they do have a goal in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not sit on completed chapters well, do I? :) This is the last Rick POV, and it's a little info heavy because of Quinn's "data dump" on them. While the lake, dam, and Scout camp mentioned all exist in real life, the Retreat Quinn's talking about does not (at least not in Georgia). It's loosely modeled after a similar place elsewhere, with a good chunk of creative license.
> 
> In trying to research the safety of being near a dam that stoppers up a river the size of the Chattahoochee, I ran into a lot of "well, maybe this would happen" because obviously, no one is going to see just how long one runs unattended. Thus the educated guess Quinn gives that they'll be safe above the dam if it fails.
> 
> Next chapter, a peek inside Shane's pretty lil head.


	5. Swarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane realizes Carl's not the only kid who is intrigued with him.

**July 16, 2010**

Shane turns at hearing his name, puzzled at the youngest Dixon seeking him out, but smiling at the girl anyway despite his mood. It earns him a bright smile in return, easing away some of the bubbling anger from Lori's bitchy behavior. How the hell the woman thinks he deliberately would leave Rick - his brother in all but blood - behind on purpose, he doesn't know. 

She also seems to blame him for the group deciding to go west instead of east, even when Rick himself came round to it being the best idea.

Harper shifts from one foot to another, glancing back at where Sophia is waiting about ten feet away. He realizes belatedly that the girls must have overheard Lori taking Carl away, and that they can probably both sense his temper is high.

"Did you need something, sweetheart?" he asks, keeping his voice carefully soft. It's not the girl's fault that Lori's treating him the way she is.

"You were showing Carl how to catch frogs, right?" she asks at last, tugging at the tail of her dark braid. Her hopeful expression leads him to what he thinks the girls are leading up to.

"You two want to learn how to catch frogs?"

"Yeah. I've eaten frog legs before, but never went out and caught them," Harper admits. "And I'm tired of squirrels." 

Sophia nods vehemently, her blond hair fluttering around the soft blue headband she’s wearing today that matches a T-shirt he’s fairly sure he saw Harper wearing last week. Considering they’re more or less the same size and age, it makes sense they might share clothes.

He laughs despite himself and motions for the girls to join him. They shed their shoes and socks and roll up the legs of their pants to their knees, wading into the shallows to join him.

“Can I tell you girls a secret?” he asks, grinning as he wades further in the water after passing them Carl’s net.

They chorus yeses at him, curious like any kid being let into a secret from an adult.

“It’s the wrong time of day to catch a lot of frogs, but Carl doesn’t know how to swim.”

Harper thinks that over, still hefting the net. “But if he’s catching frogs, he’s playing in the water and cooling off without being afraid, right?”

“Exactly.”

She eyes the net, her friend, and Shane before shrugging and setting the net down. “We’re allowed to swim with an adult watching, but Miss Carol’s worries she can’t do laundry and watch us swim.”

The hint doesn’t get any more blatant than that. “Alright. Well, I did happen to work as a lifeguard back in high school, so think that’ll pass your mamas’ inspection?”

“Sure.” Always the more confident of the girls, Harper’s already wading toward him. The water that’s not even to his backside is reaching her waist.

Sophia glances toward her mother first, but Carol’s looked this way and seems perfectly fine with where her daughter is. She follows more hesitantly, only going as far as her knees.

“When is a good time for frogs?” she asks.

“Catching frogs is best at dawn, dusk, or nighttime. Think about when you hear those big fellas getting all noisy.”

“Huh. Yeah.” Sophia smiles and wades a few steps further, because Harper’s already flopped into the water and is floating just beyond Shane. “And being down here at night would kinda freak people out, right?”

“Just a lil bit,” he tells her. “We could probably hunt the shortline and find us a few hiding out right now, but it would be a small supper.”

“We can ask Mama if we can come down at dusk,” Harper says. “She probably would say yes.” She bobs under the water before he can answer, reappearing a few feet away in deeper water.

Sophia finally takes the plunge, moving past Shane and dog paddling toward her friend. “You’re too fast!”

Harper giggles and swims back all the way to Shane. She’s got an idea sparking, he can tell. “Can you toss us?”

He arches a brow. “Like out in the lake?”

“Yeah. Merle does it when we swim back home at the lake. Please?"

Shane figures why the hell not, so he cups his hands for Harper to step into. He crouches in the water and then launches the girl up and over his head. She’s not fibbing about doing it before, because she rolls through the air to splash down. 

Resurfacing with a big grin, she calls out, “That was _awesome_. Again, please!"

He glances toward the women doing laundry, but while a few seem alarmed, Carol’s just smiling as Harper reaches him to repeat the flip through the air. 

It takes two more flips after that before Sophia braves asking. Even though he knows his shoulders are going to be sore as hell, he keeps it up until they’re tired of it.

Maybe Carl won't be his frog catching apprentice, but he has to remember the boy isn't the only child in the camp who appreciates attention.

~*~*~*~

Rick takes a seat beside him at the fire with a plate heaped with fish from Andrea and Amy's foray with the canoe and a frog leg from his and the girls' surprisingly successful hunt. Harper’s prediction that her mother would let them go back to the shoreline at dusk proved true, although Micah trailed along to help keep an eye out for anything dangerous while they caught the frogs. 

"Carl is real disappointed that a couple of girls outdid him at frog catching. I'm sorry the walker scare earlier got Lori so worked up she brought Carl back to camp."

It might be best to leave it at Rick's excuse, so Shane delays answering by taking a bite of his own frog leg. He chews slowly. 

"I just wish I thought of asking the girls along with Carl. They came and found me. I guess I figured Harper would already know how, since she hunts and fishes."

"I remember Daryl telling Jesse to have the girls help with the squirrels. Do they really?"

T-Dog snorts. "Man, those two girls are like little Iron Chef Redneck Edition contestants. Sophia's been learning so fast you'd never know that girl hasn't been at Harper's side her whole life. Just wait til one of them brings you over a foil packet of grilled snake."

Shane and T-Dog laugh at Rick's disbelieving look. "It's true, Rick. Daryl and Harper came back with a big ass rat snake a few weeks ago and cooked that sucker up over their fire. She came around sweet talking everyone into 'just a little taste'."

"How was it?"

"Not half bad. Wouldn't say it tastes like chicken, like people joke. More like fish. That white one that Lori liked to cook all the time. Lotta bones to pick around though," Shane answers. 

T-Dog nods in agreement. "Honestly, if she had just brought the meat without the bones, she could have passed it off to me as fish and I wouldn't have known any better."

"Forgive me if I hope eating snakes doesn't become common for us," Rick jokes. "Frog legs are about as adventurous as I like to be."

Carl sits, looking sulky. "What's it taste like, Dad? Mom wouldn't give me one."

Shane suppresses a grin when Rick hands off the remainder of his frog leg to Carl to try. The boy grins and makes short work of it, to the amusement of those already eating. 

Rick assesses his son's plate with a frown. "You didn't want any of the mushrooms or daylilies?"

The delighted expression Carl wore while eating the frog leg fades. "I'm not allowed to eat those."

Rick frowns, looking around everyone else's plates. Shane knows what he's seeing. Not everyone has the daylilies, but everyone has a mix of the two types of mushrooms. "Why not?"

Shane answers to save the boy from implicating his mother. "Lori doesn't allow him to eat anything the other kids collect, not even if I verify the mushrooms. And the chanterelles are the ones I know best. Others are hedgehogs, according to what Daryl's taught the kids. Merle and Harper brought the daylily flower buds back from one of the yards near where they dumped trash."

"I don't know that they are safe," Lori interrupts, sitting on Carl's other side, with a particularly ugly look toward Shane.

"Well, I sure hope they are, or we'd all be really sick or dead by now." Jacqui punctuates her statement by taking a deliberate bite of a daylily bud. 

Shane remembers she was hesitant at first about some of the odd things the Dixons brought back out of the woods, but most of them turned out pretty good. He knows she's been going with the kids here and there too, like this morning's blueberry hunt that had yielded a tasty extra serving for lunch despite the walker discovery. Even startled, they all held onto their berry buckets.

"It's not just going on their word either," Shane explains. "Harper has some books she lugged along. I compared a couple of things to the books a while back and they're being careful."

Glenn laughs as he swallows his bite of frog leg. "Some. The girl has an entire gym bag of books, and none of them fiction."

"She's even loaned me one. It's pretty interesting reading," Jacqui says. "She wanted to be a botanist, before all this. I assume Carol warned you to go easy on the daylily when she gave you your plate?"

"Yeah. She said some folks can have allergic reactions to it," Rick replies.

"Then you're good. They're tasty. The roots are a bit weird. Makes me think of a nutty potato." The older woman gestures at the roasted tuber on her plate, which Carol hasn't served Rick, probably due to the allergy potential being unknown. 

"They're also how you know which ones are safe to eat. If you dig one up and it looks like this, it's the right kind of daylily. If it's a bulb, it's a real lily and poisonous. Supposed to be a good source of vitamin C and A, which we sure don't have a lot of out here in the woods. Just don't eat too much at once or you'll feel like you downed a batch of Ex-lax."

Shane's impressed. He knows Jacqui tries to engage all the kids, making him wonder if she had kids of her own, grown or missing. He's never asked, in case the answer is that she's lost them to the dead rising. The three little girls all seem to enjoy the attention.

Rick reaches over and takes one of Shane’s two remaining buds and passes one to Carl. "Here. We can be guinea pigs together." Carl stuffs the thing in his mouth so fast that Lori can't even begin to get any objections out. 

"Tastes like asparagus," Carl says, making a face. "You'll like it, Dad."

Rick pops his into his mouth and chews thoughtfully before swallowing. "No wonder Shane had a few more than I did. You remember how much he likes asparagus." 

Lori huffs, obviously displeased at being overridden, but unwilling to make a scene with Rick in front of everyone. Her own plate is rather sparse, just the canned baked beans and fish. 

It's a miracle the woman isn't suffering from malnutrition. From all the legitimate complaints he has about the rough behavior of the oldest two Dixons, Shane can't deny that having a variety of fresh foods, if odd at times, hasn't livened up their meals here.

"How are your shoulders feeling?" Jacqui asks, flashing him a grin. "You got a hell of a workout this afternoon."

Shane laughs. "They sure don't follow that one at the gym back home. Shoulders and back are a bit sore, but nothing bad."

Rick's looking curious, so Jacqui elaborates. "Before they went frog hunting, Sophia and Harper had Shane tossing them in the lake, repeatedly. I swear, from where we were, it looked like Harper was flying twenty feet up."

"Nah, probably more like ten, but kid's an acrobat. At least half of that air time was her doing."

"Sounds like you had quite the afternoon," Rick says, his smile a happy one.

"Yeah, I did." It's a good feeling, and one he wishes he achieved more often.

The dishes have all been gathered and washed by firelight, since the fishing and frogging expeditions pushed supper to well after dark. Everyone's around the fire, just chatting in general. Shane relaxes in his spot, feeling content but lonely with Carl cuddled up to his dad instead of Shane. 

He can't help the glance toward the Dixon camp, where Merle is playing Uno with all of the kids, his antics not much more mature than theirs. Carol is busy with the never-ending supply of mending, while Daryl and Quinn are bent over the road atlas, likely going over the plans she, Shane, and Rick ironed out earlier.

He barely notices Amy leave the fire, despite the playful bickering with her sister about privacy, fighting the feelings of jealousy he's having toward not only his partner, but _Merle Dixon_ after time spent swimming and frog hunting with the girls. 

It’s ironic that he spent years avoiding the commitment of a family, yet keeping Lori and Carl safe for Rick for two months seems to have ignited a need in him he never expected.

His attention toward the Dixon camp means he's the first one around the bigger fire pit to alert when Xander shoots to his feet, the dog’s hackles raised as he growls low and deep. 

But he doesn't have time to turn and react before Merle draws his Browning and fires twice toward the RV, damn near over their heads, roaring "Get your ass back in the RV, girlie!" as Amy screams and slams the door. 

Both walkers hit the ground, just as the camp’s hit by a damned swarm of the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many ways to go frog hunting, but I've never in all my 40+ years seen it done like on the show. That said, it's such an *adorable* scene between Carl and Shane that I had to salvage it.
> 
> My uncle used to toss us kids like this at the lake. It's one of my happiest childhood memories, being flung through the air like an acrobat and the splashing down...
> 
> I don't know if this qualifies as a cliffhanger since y'all know me too well by now on just who I would have get eaten...


	6. Waiting for the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After defending the camp, Shane and Rick finally learn more about the Dixons.

** July 16, 2010 **

Everyone bursts into motion. It's nearly impossible to keep track of everyone as the walkers pour in, but Shane helps Rick back Lori and Carl toward the RV, keeping them sheltered. 

He hears Merle barking orders, yelling for Carol and the girls to get to the RV and divides just enough attention to make sure their dash across camp is a safe one. It is, but not just from he and Rick covering them, but because Carol's swinging a machete with hoarse little grunts, covering the girls' retreat. 

Harper and Sophia don't just hide behind him, though, but climb the ladder, going for high ground. Carol fills in the gap next to him, begging Lori to take Carl up the ladder.

Shane isn't sure if Lori's just too frozen to react or not, but he can feel Carl's fingers grip into the back of his shirt, so he knows they're still on the ground. He's out of ammo in the Mossberg, so he drops it to draw his Glock despite knowing the shotgun's at least a good bludgeon when empty. 

Rick's still firing next to him, but somehow has a shotgun instead of his Python. He would have run out of ammo in the revolver about as fast as Shane did the Mossberg. The next walker he aims at falls to an arrow before he can fire, and he realizes that at least one of the girls above on the RV has a bow.

It seems like forever and he's had to change the magazine out in his Glock once by the time there are no more walkers for him to shoot. He's shaking from the adrenaline rush, checking on first Lori and Carl and then Carol and the girls. Carol's chest is heaving, but she looks fierce, not scared. 

Lori is terrified, clinging to Carl and now Rick. The girls are poised on top of the RV, and Harper still has an arrow in place on the bow. Sophia doesn't have a weapon, so it was Harper who was helping pick off walkers.

His heart rate finally settles enough for him to check on the rest of the camp. He knew at one point, he'd heard a male screaming, so he looks for the boys first. But he can see Jesse's been boosted to high ground similarly to the girls, laid out on his stomach on top of the box truck with his hunting rifle. 

Micah's on foot, grouped with the Dixon adults where they'd taken on the swarm while backed up to the box truck. Jacqui, Glenn, and Dale have bloodied axes, from where they helped Morales corral Miranda and the children against one of the vehicles. Jim and T-Dog hold their own bloody weaponry, alert and breathing heavy where they have Andrea safe between them. Only Ed is missing.

Merle speaks before anyone else. "Get the kids inside," he orders, and no one argues. 

Rick pushes Lori and Carl toward the RV door, so Shane turns and makes sure Harper and Sophia make it to the ground safely. Carol takes both girls from him, letting him take her bloody machete instead and slipping inside after Quinn runs a hand over both girls’ hair. Andrea finally realizes she's separated from Amy and scrambles into the RV, with Miranda and her kids following. 

On top of the box truck, Jesse hasn't moved, but since Merle doesn't seem concerned, Shane isn't going to be. Xander lopes over to stand guard near the RV door.

"We need to make sure they're all dead," Rick begins, but Merle interrupts him.

"In the dark, where we're almost blind? Are you fucking nuts, Officer Friendly? Best thing we can do is hold high ground til daylight."

"Someone was screaming," Jacqui mutters. "Who's missing?"

Everyone looks around, doing a similar headcount as Shane did. He doesn't feel guilty that several faces show the same relief he felt. If Ed is bitten, no one's going to miss him. 

Quinn and Daryl edge towards Ed's tent. The hunter nudges a walker sprawled near the entrance. He doesn't seem concerned, so Shane figures someone got it with a headshot. Quinn uses the barrel of her rifle to nudge the tent flap back while Daryl stands guard with his crossbow raised.

The sharp twang of Daryl's crossbow tells them all they need to know.

Everyone else seems in agreement with Merle that checking the rest of the dead can wait til morning. Shane knows the RV is stuffed to overflowing at this point. Daryl makes his preference of where to spend the night known by nimbly climbing the front of the box truck to join Jesse on top of it.

"Anybody thinks they can manage a bit of sleep, crawl into a car and give it a try," Shane says. "I'll take watch on the RV. Anybody not sleeping, follow their example." He points to Jesse and Daryl, waiting only long enough for everyone to nod tiredly before retrieving his shotgun and going to climb to the top of the RV. 

The others scatter, some into vehicles to sleep. Rick and Morales both approach the RV to check on their wives and children, but Shane's surprised when Quinn climbs up to join him. She is quiet while she checks over her rifle, replacing the magazine on the Remington 7600 with quiet efficiency before moving on to check over her handgun too. 

"You good on ammo?" she asks quietly from where she's sitting cross legged next to his chair.

"For the Mossberg? It's in my tent. Got half a magazine left in the Glock."

She reaches into the bag she has slung over one arm and hands him a magazine. "Hopefully you won't need it. Your tent's gonna be a mess. There's a whole lot of walker gore splattered on it."

He looks to see that she's right. One of the walkers has collapsed his tent, with a second close enough by whomever shot it probably splatted the tent too. "You good on ammo still?"

"Yeah. We were further out when they started swarming, so we had more time to grab."

"Merle had y'all moving fast."

"Military training. For all his crazy shit on a regular day, he never forgets a thing. He'll sit there at night in the middle of a card game and randomly run a scenario with the kids on what to do if walkers come. Don't ever play chess with the man unless you want to be completely embarrassed."

"I'm glad they listened." He remembers how much calmer the girls had been. No tears, just quickly following directions. He realizes now that he knows that shotgun Rick was using. "Can't say I didn't mind the overhead coverage from Harper either. She passed her shotgun off to Rick somehow, when he ran out of ammo."

Quinn laughs softly. "Explains why Sophia was weaponless then. She must have given her bow off to Harper since she's been shooting longer. Makes me glad you lost the argument with me about the kids' guns when we came to camp, too."

"You and me both."

The door to the RV opens and Rick and Morales both exit. Rick heads for the ladder and joins them, looking exhausted. Quinn pats the spot next to her and scoots closer to Shane's chair to make room. She unzips the bag, sliding it toward him. "You can reload if you like. Harper's are the 20 gauge."

Shane's partner stares at the bag for a moment before reaching for it, reloading. "Never thought I'd have a little girl save my ass with a loaded gun," he grumbles.

Shane laughs ruefully. "That's the problem with the Python, brother. No magazines and only six shots. Good chasing criminals, not so much against walking dead swarms. At least when my shotgun ran out, I had backup."

"I shoulda had one of the shotguns from the station with me too."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda. We did okay. How're all the kids doing?" Shane asks. "And Amy?"

"Amy's still in shock I think, between having the shots fired so near her head and realizing she nearly got bit. Carl calmed down once he got loose from his mother and is cuddled up between the two older girls. Morales kids are doing better than I expected, too. Started to let the dog in until I realized he had walker gore on him"

"He hamstrung several," Quinn explains. "He can't kill them, but he can at least limit their speed."

"And if he gets bitten?" Rick asks, looking apprehensive.

"Animals don't turn, thank God. There was a case back home where a farmer's lamb was bitten, right at the beginning. Vet stitched him up and treated it like any other predatory wound. It was still roaming the pasture when we headed for Atlanta, more than a week later. So we'd do the same - stitch him up, dose him with antibiotics, and pray he didn't die of infection."

”Bet that freaked the hell out of the local police to be reported," Shane remarks. "I know the first calls we got were like some damned SyFy movie."

"No fucking kidding." Quinn shifts, stretching, calling Shane's attention to surgical scars on her left arm. The scars are accented by a tattoo pattern of colorful butterflies, wildlife, and purple ribbons. He can't make out the text that runs along them in the moonlight, but he’s seen enough of them before to know it’s poetry. 

"I thought the dispatch had lost their minds the first time we got called out for a bite victim. Thought my partner and I were going to see a victim of a drugged out domestic attack. Instead it was a sixty-year-old man who managed to lock his petite wife in the bathroom after she bit him twice."

"And what happened from there?" Rick asks. "It was hard to miss, when I woke up, that the world had taken one hell of a wrong turn. But before? I can't imagine."

It takes Shane a minute to answer. Those first few calls are foggier than they should be, because fear and worry for Rick clouded everything he did. 

"Me and Leon, God, Rick, some of the shit we got called out to was just insane. Everyone kept saying it was drugs, bad ones, at first, but let me tell you, it was clear pretty quick that it wasn't any drug we'd ever seen. It was after Leon got bit that I bailed. Grabbed Lori and Carl and headed for Atlanta, even though that promise of safety turned out to be wrong."

Rick sighs. "I put Leon down before I left King County. Couldn't leave him to just wander around."

"It was the same way back home. People dying of the flu to the point they took over the hospital when they started biting the staff. That's how my partner died, actually. We'd just brought in a patient and someone stumbled out of a room in the ER. Wasn't until Adam beat her off him that we recognized the charge nurse we'd worked with for years. There was no way Regina did drugs a day in her life. She was a holy roller of the truest sort." 

She's quiet long enough Shane thinks she isn't going to continue. "Got Adam out to the rig and radioed in that the ER had at least a dozen people affected and if they tried to bullshit me it was drugs again, I was quitting on the spot."

"What'd they tell you?" Shane asks.

"Asshole in dispatch admitted the police department had told them it wasn't drugs, but they didn't believe it. We'd gone out on that run, pulling an accident victim out of a smashed up car, without a clue he could have died in our rig and eaten me then and there. That was when I said fuck it and quit anyway. 

“Knew Adam was dying and I wasn't going out solo. Took Adam home. Merle had heard from some friends confirmation about destroying the brain. Adam asked for enough painkiller to make it quick. Merle took care of him after for me. Buried him in the backyard. We loaded up and evacuated that night."

The grief in her voice affects both men. Shane knows how he felt when he thought Rick was dead. There was no miracle for her partner. Rick reaches out to pat her knee and she smiles slightly at him.

"So y'all lived together before too?" Rick asks. "You and Merle and all?"

"Yeah. Keeps Merle on the straight and narrow, and where Merle goes, Daryl does. And as rough as they come across, they're family men in their own way. None of us had the best situations growing up, and when I came to Georgia and needed help, they were willing. So we built the family we wanted when we were kids."

"I gotta ask. What did they do for a living before?" Shane hopes the question will both satisfy curiosity and lighten her mood a little.

It works, because she laughs. "Merle had a bike shop. Builds customs and sells them, does repair. That's how he ended up with that bike. It was at the shop when he closed it down and he figured what the hell."

"The swastika did make us all a bit nervous."

"Considering the late owner, you'd be right if you came across him. Man had a record rough enough to make Merle flinch, but they served together, and Merle never could turn him away. He wasn't all bad though. I got the feeling he really liked that Merle went straight. Sent him a lot of business to help him stay that way."

"So he did serve time?" Rick is looking out to where Merle is on alert sitting in the back of the Ford pickup, but Micah is curled against him, relaxed and asleep despite the uncomfortable truck bed.

"Several short stints, all a decade or more ago. Drunk and disorderlies, one longer stretch for assault and another for possession. But the service I meant was actually the Marines.” 

Rick has the grace to blush, just a little, at the soft rebuke, and Quinn continues. “Daryl got hurt real bad in a bike wreck, about six months before I came to Georgia. Merle was so focused on making sure he got back healthy he accidentally got clean himself. 

“Then I appeared on his doorstep and he had even more people depending on him. Some men don't know how to be anything but bad if that's all they know growing up. Merle's the type that just needed someone to believe he could be good. Needed to be needed, and God knows I was pretty desperately in need at the time."

That explains the fierce protective streak she has towards the oldest Dixon. If she feels he was her savior when she was in a bad way, that's a loyalty beyond blood. "And Daryl?"

"Maintenance, repair, construction, you name it. Worked for himself as sort of a general handyman all over our county and the neighboring ones. They both put me through college to get my paramedic licensing. First Dixon to ever get a college degree, although Merle's got a few classes under his belt. He thinks it's funny to plunk down a couple hundred to annoy the shit out of a professor for a semester now and then at the local community college. Always passes them too."

It's both hard and easy to picture Merle in a college classroom. Rick and Shane meet each other's eyes and grin tiredly at the idea of just how crazy a student like Merle would be. He wonders what kind of classes would interest a man like Merle. By the time he got done with college, there's no way he would have gone back just for fun.

They all fall silent, but it’s a companionable silence, just waiting for the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of my completed chapters, so posting will slow down to whenever the Muse is ready. :)
> 
> It's still not all of the source of Quinn's unshakable loyalty to Merle, but more layers revealed, at least.


	7. Clear Your Conscience, Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blocked highway makes the travelers turn back to find a place to stay for the night.

**July 17, 2010**

It's two hours past dawn when Shane meets back up with Rick. Since they are leaving anyway, the walkers were dragged to a general pile near what used to be Ed's campsite.

Now everyone is striking camp, at least those whose tents survived. Rick surveys the mess that was a decent tent and laughs.

"Keep it up, man. Revenge will be sweet." It only makes Rick laugh harder.

By carefully rolling back the gore covered panel he's cut free with his pocket knife, he's hoping to not get all his belongings covered in walker muck.

"Do we actually have any spare tents?"

"Not that I know of. I can probably bunk with T-Dog and Glenn if we need to make camp anywhere."

"Or you can bunk with Daryl. More room that way. The boys can bunk with Merle." Quinn stops next to Rick to look over the remains of Shane's tent. "Damn. I knew it got hit, but it looks like a Tarantino movie."

Shane pauses to think that offer over. It's true that the Dixon tents are larger ones, so going three to a tent is easier than him trying it in the smaller four-person tent with him and T-Dog already being on the bulkier side. "If that would be okay with Daryl."

Daryl, he could probably handle for a few hours sleep in a small space. She could have suggested Merle.

"He won't care. Probably be glad to be away from Merle for a few nights."

No one's banking on a trip that used to take less than half a day being that short now. The fastest routes are more likely to be the most crowded. It could take days or even weeks to reach the Columbus area.

His air mattress did not survive the bullet that splattered one of the walkers. The sheets will be fine, although aerated now, and it's been too hot to unroll his sleeping bag. He salvages what he can and loads it in his Jeep with Rick's help.

The Grimes' gear is all in Ed's Cherokee, after Carol stripped the man of his keys and what supplies survived his well-deserved death. Shane knows she traded the man's rifle and ammo to T-Dog for the shotgun he was issued from Rick's bag. He guesses he doesn't blame her for not wanting the gun.

He pauses for a drink and reviews the vehicles leaving camp. Dale's RV, the Morales' Suzuki, the newly owned Grimes' Cherokee, his Jeep, Daryl's Ford truck, Merle's Triumph, and Quinn's Ford Expedition. 

"You're studying the vehicles awfully hard," Quinn says, walking up with a couple jugs of water. He takes them and puts them in the back of his Jeep. Spreading out essential supplies is something everyone agreed with.

"Wondering if leaving T-Dog's van is going to make seating a bit crowded." Leaving the church van is almost a necessity though, because it’s even less mechanically sound than Dale’s ancient RV.

Quinn studies the vehicles and does the same math he did. Technically, her SUV seats eight, but she's got the back packed with supplies, as well as gear and tents strapped to the top. The loaded gear in Shane’s Jeep reduces capacity to him and a passenger. 

"We'll all fit for now. The problem will be if the damned RV breaks down and we can't fix it."

Shane agrees. Right now, even putting a passenger on the bike with Merle, they'll be three seats short.

It's Glenn that poses the solution when he comes to slide his backpack in Shane's Jeep, apparently volunteering to ride with Shane versus Dale. "We could stop by that U-Haul place and hook up the tow trailers to everything with hitches. That'll free up five spots."

Solution found, Shane summons the drivers while T-Dog and Glenn do one last round of camp to make sure nothing irreplaceable is being left behind. He relays the extra stop suggestion and everyone agrees.

It doesn't hurt that it means more chances to gather supplies, with four vehicles towing trailers. They pull out of the quarry before noon and make the shift in gear at the U-Haul place. Merle spearheads draining the gas out of the remaining U-Haul trucks, which tops off everyone's tanks, plus putting some spare supply in the gas cans.

By two in the afternoon, they're headed southwest on Highway 70.

It’s a fairly quiet drive, since Glenn seems more interested in memorizing the maps in the big atlas he’s been entrusted with than talking. It might be the first road trip Shane’s ever been on with women and children involved where there wasn’t a demand for a bathroom break every hour.

The roads aren’t clear, by any means. But they’re passable, even when speed slows to a snail’s pace. Shane’s primary view is Merle’s back on the Triumph, as the big redneck uses the motorcycle to navigate any jams. Twice he summons Shane and Glenn to help him move a vehicle that narrows the gaps too much for the larger vehicles to pass.

Then just south of Campbellton, Highway 70 becomes impassible. The crash and subsequent burning of a semi-truck to a pile of twisted slag blocks the curve in the highway, which is no more than a country road at this point. If it were just the more rugged vehicles, like Shane’s Jeep, they might risk removing the curve warning signs and edging into the woods, but the RV isn’t going to fit. No sense risking the tires on the others, either.

The impromptu meeting of drivers gathers next to the Cherokee, with Glenn joining with the atlas. The rest of the group scrambles for the treeline, so Shane thinks bladders must have held out long enough. Since there are several armed and capable among them, he focuses on the meeting he’s in.

“If we go back to where we turned right, by that little tree farm, we can go south on 154 to Palmetto. If 29 is clear after Palmetto, that's where we want to be anyway,” the young Korean explains.

They want to stick to 29, if they can, because it swings closest to the lake Quinn mentioned as a destination. No one wants to take the whole group all the way to Columbus without a guarantee.

Daryl and Rick both take a look at the route Glenn’s suggesting and nod. Rick looks at Dale. “Think you can reverse that RV back to that last road we passed? Too narrow to safely turn it around here.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. At least I don’t have to worry about traffic coming up on me these days.”

Daryl shifts his feet and clears his throat. “Maybe we just turn down that road? It’s a loop, cos I saw the same signs back when we first hit the highway. Getting towards dark, and they don’t usually name roads after lakes if there’s not a water source. Ain’t that far from the Chattahoochee either way.”

Shane mulls that over. They’ve got water, but probably only two, maybe three, days worth with the size of this group. Any time spent near water sources is a good thing. He agrees when the rest do, moving back to his Jeep. Merle rumbles by on the Triumph, passing the slowly reversing RV while the rest of them make the tight turns to return the way they came.

The road is narrow, barely paved, and almost makes Shane wish he argued for the main highway instead. But then they leave the trees and to their right is a massive stone and wood structure that makes him think of a castle more than a residence. It even has a clock tower.

Merle drops back to the driver’s side of the Jeep, dropping one booted foot to the ground and signaling the rest of the caravan to stop. “Gonna head up there solo and see what that is.”

Without waiting for agreement, he disappears up the driveway, circling the building. Shane’s radio crackles with Rick’s voice. “What the hell is that thing?”

“Dunno,” Shane replies. “Just hope it’s not full of walkers, cos Merle’s opening a door.”

Whatever the big man’s found, he finds it funny because he’s laughing his ass off when the motorcycle pulls back alongside the Jeep.

“It’s a damned horse barn. Horses here must’ve lived better than most people. Might be a good shelter for the night if we clear it. Didn’t hear any movement, but wasn’t going in alone.”

Shane relays the message, and when no one objects over the radio, Merle takes his bike back up the driveway, with the caravan following him this time. They all park behind the barn and organize to enter it.

“Dale? You and Micah stand watch out here?” Shane asks. From their stance, all three adult Dixons are going in as part of the clearing team. He’s still not entirely sure on how capable T-Dog and Glenn are with the weapons they’ve been given. “Me, Rick, and the Dixons should be enough to check things out.”

Five really should be plenty, because if this place was full of the dead, they would know it by now. A larger group would actually end up more dangerous. Leaving Jim and Jacqui with the Cherokee they’ve been riding in with the Grimes’ family keeps Lori and Carl safe.

By the time they’ve walked the expanse of the barn and checked all the horse stalls, Shane has to agree with Merle. Damned horses really did live better than people here. Either way, the doors can be secured and it may not be a bed and breakfast, but it’s also not a tent outdoors.

Once they’ve relayed the news and their people are unloading, Daryl unhooks the trailer from his truck and offloads what remains in the truck bed to the trailer. “Gonna go look for the lake.”

Merle frowns. “Take Micah or Jesse with you.”

It ends up being both teenagers who pile back into the Ford with Daryl and drive off.

Carl eyes the barn with a little apprehension. “There weren’t any animals in there, were there?”

Rick throws an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Not a one. I’m guessing there either weren’t horses here at the time or the owners evacuated them.”

Considering anyone with this kind of money could afford to evacuate horses, Shane thinks, he figures Rick’s right on that. Quinn’s circled the outside of the building with Merle and returns as Rick is reassuring Carl.

“I think it’s more of an event venue,” she says. “Bunch of equipment down in the distance that looks like for equestrian competition.”

That would explain the upscaled barn, if it’s not an average, everyday use structure.

“Their luxury is to our benefit, at least,” Shane says. “Just think, Carl, you get to sleep in a horse stall tonight.”

Lori’s venturing inside with Andrea and Amy, and he can hear them comment about how pretty the place is. At least it means she’s not arguing with him being within speaking distance of the boy for once.

“Alright. Guess we need to offload some things, depending on what Daryl finds.” Merle levels that challenging look at Shane and Rick, as if he expects them to argue, but when they just nod in agreement, he rolls his eyes and heads for the Expedition.

“I’ll stick by the radio,” Glenn volunteers.

Everyone else goe to follow Merle’s suggestion, and by the time Daryl returns with the teenagers, two rabbits, and enough squirrels to feed the whole group, folks are set up for the night.

Shane’s just a little bit grateful not to be sharing sleeping space with the man. He’s quieter than Merle, always has been, but he doesn’t miss a damn thing. Daryl’s gaze slides between Shane and the Grimes couple with all the anticipation of a man watching a dynamite fuse burn down.

The former deputy wishes Daryl’s watchfulness wasn’t legitimate. It’s just a matter of time before someone spills the beans to Rick, and he uneasily thinks he owes it to his best friend to be the one to do it. He knows Lori won’t, too busy trying to grasp the fantasy that it never happened and he lured her astray, but the longer he waits, the worse it’s going to be for Rick.

The brunette is sticking to Rick’s side like glue though, so he suspects she knows he’s wanting to confess their sins. Starting that conversation with Carl anywhere near is not happening, so he retires after supper to the stall he selected as his own.

He’s dozing already, anticipating his watch shift starting at midnight, when the stall door swings open. It’s dark and he reaches out to turn on the camping lantern, curious and wary about who’s approaching.

He can’t exactly mistake Lori’s form in the dim light. Lord knows he’s seen and felt enough of it to probably recognize her in the dark. She kneels beside the sleeping bag, one hand pressed against his mouth.

“You can’t tell Rick, Shane. You cannot ruin my marriage,” she hisses once she sees he’s awake and not fighting her impromptu silencing. 

Shane just lies there until she removes her hand to allow him to respond. He hates the reaction his body still has to her touching him like that, still trained to them both trying to keep the other quiet in their interludes. She flushes a deep red, obviously making the same connection he has about the hand over his mouth.

“Lori, you think him finding out some other way’s going to be better?” If the roles were reversed, he sure as hell wouldn’t want to find out from someone else. “If you think half the damn camp doesn’t know what we got up to, you’re living in a fantasy world.”

“You told me my husband was dead!” she hisses.

He tries to sit up on his sleeping bag, tired of this accusation already. But she’s too close and he doesn’t entirely trust himself where she’s concerned, not when he reacts to her touch like he’s been her lover for years and not weeks. 

“I thought he was dead. They were slaughtering patients in the hallways. There were no doctors. He was hooked up to machines and I had no idea how to get him out of that place.”

He thinks of the desperation he felt, when the power cut off and all the machines keeping his brother alive died with it. His ear against Rick’s chest, listening for a heartbeat that never came. His fingers feeling for a pulse _that was not there_.

All he could think about in that moment of overwhelming grief was that he had to save all that was left of Rick in the world.

“If you thought for just one second Rick was still alive, would you have come?”

Lori shakes her head.

“If I could have traded places with him, I would have. I swear to God, I would have, from the day he got shot, I would have traded places.”

“Seems like you did just that. Soon as you thought he was gone, you moved into his place. With me. With Carl.” The venom in her voice burns like acid along the mess of conflicting emotions he’s been having about the whole fucked up situation.

“Lori, you cannot lay all the blame for what we did at my feet.” 

He loves her, as best as he’s ever been able to love a woman, but the look on her face is shredding that desperate, lonely affection to nothing. He thought she at least cared for him, but the truth of it shows right now, in the disgust she is viewing him with.

“I will blame you til the end of fucking time, if I want to, Shane. You stay away from my family, and don’t you dare tell Rick.”

She emphasizes the demand with a thump of her palm dead center of his bare chest. He flinches from the blow.

“I’m gonna tell Rick.” He loves Lori, but he loves Rick more.

He really should have expected the impact of the slap to his face, when she’s already volatile. But he doesn’t, so he can only prevent a second blow by catching her wrist. It’s hard enough to bruise, he thinks belatedly, but she’s strong as a wildcat when she’s riled up.

“I think you’re mighty intent on spending time with the wrong man, queen bee, if you’re protesting your innocence so much.”

Merle Dixon’s voice from behind her drains every last ounce of fight out of Lori, replacing it with horror. She yanks her wrist away from Shane, and he lets her go. 

Merle doesn’t step aside from the stall opening when she tries to stalk past him, so she has to actually brush against the big redneck. She pushes past with a frantic little noise and disappears.

He watches her go before turning that critical, intelligent blue gaze back to Shane. He isn’t looking at the white trash act the man puts up at this moment in the darkened barn. Shane thinks he’s probably seeing the man that Quinn values enough to save that she would have put a bullet through Rick’s head without a second thought. 

“Best get your conscience cleared sooner than later, boy, or you’re going to live to regret it.”

The older man doesn’t wait for a reply, but his footsteps don’t go far. Shane thinks he’s probably bedded down in one of the neighboring stalls.

Sleep stays elusive until he’s called for watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think anyone who has read my works (and any comments) would be surprised at the depths of disgusted hatred I have for the CDC attempted rape scene. While they fog it up with the influence of alcohol, the scene doesn't fit where Shane's character is at that point. It's sloppy and has all the complexity of writing "VILLAIN" on his forehead with a magic marker. Placed in season two, after he's begun the descent into madness and feels he's losing everything after the baby reveal, the scene would fit, even as pro-Shane as I am. But not where it is.
> 
> So, this is my take on that particular confrontation, without the alcohol. 
> 
> Lori isn't a villain either, so if you've read RBM, you'll know that I actually enjoy writing her POV. But she's a stubborn, often ungrateful wretch at this point in time, and I don't want to shy away from that stage of her development either.
> 
> Note about the property they're on. I didn't start out to use the location - being completely unaware of it while I was playing with Google Maps to find a likely place for a roadblock that would put them somewhere for the night. Out of sheer freaking luck, the sharp curve in Highway 70 that suited a truck crash is right outside an 8,000 acre property owned by a former Olympian where an equestrian event venue was built in January-March 2010. If you've seen Avengers: Endgame, it's also the site of Tony Stark's cabin. It's also the site of the TomorrowLand music festival, but that didn't start til 2013. Yay, Google. :)
> 
> I take artistic liberty in any interior of the big barn, since most of the photography of this gorgeous property features the other buildings, not the massive castle of a main barn.


	8. All I Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With some meddling from others, Shane finally gets to talk to Rick alone.

** July 18, 2010 **

There’s good hunting in the area and no large populations of walkers in this isolated place, so Shane isn’t terribly surprised when the idea is broached to have them stay another day or three. Everyone really needs the rest, after the chaos of the attack at the quarry.

Daryl and Micah left before sunrise, declaring they were going to bring back more than just supper this time. Merle and Quinn disappeared for a while with Quinn’s kids and Sophia, returning with a wealth of foraged greenery and porcini mushrooms.

Shane’s been trying to get an unguarded moment with Rick and lead him aside to do what he promised last night. But Lori’s watching like a hawk, fluttering and clutching in a way Rick seems unable to resist much. More importantly, she’s keeping Carl underfoot, knowing Shane would never bring the boy into such a conversation.

“Mister Grimes?”

The child’s voice actually interrupts Lori’s latest plea for Rick’s attention, which is reorganizing their haphazardly packed possessions into some sort of working order.

“Yeah, Harper?”

Harper Dixon is standing behind Rick with a hopeful expression. It reminds Shane of the look she gave him when cajoling him into teaching the girls to hunt frogs.

“Can Carl come with us to the lake? We don’t want to leave him out.”

A glance beyond the girl shows all the other children gathered, from eight-year-old Louis to fourteen-year-old Jesse. They’re carrying fishing gear, and the three from the Dixon camp are armed with their preferred weapons.

“That’s a pretty good ways out from all the adults,” Rick says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He doesn’t look at Lori, even as she hisses at the idea Rick might agree. Carl looks like Christmas is coming early.

“Miss Jacqui is going to drive us down. Mama gave her the keys to the Expedition.”

Jacqui may not be skilled with firearms, but the woman certainly proved her willingness to hack away at anything threatening during the camp attack. Two of the children in this group also fought the walkers.

“Can I, Dad? It’s hot and boring watching Mom pack.”

The ebony-skinned woman approaches, the Ford keys in question dangling from her hand. “You kids ready to go?” She flashes Rick an encouraging smile. “Be a shame for the boy to be up here by his lonesome, deputy.”

“Yeah, Carl, you can go.” It earns Rick a hug from his son. “Just remember you don’t know how to swim, son.”

“We can all swim, Mister Grimes, and I did the junior lifeguard program back home,” Jesse says, with a little nod that makes his dark blue hair shift away from his eyes. 

It’s not often Shane’s actually heard the teenager speak. The boy’s in that weird span where his voice is no longer the higher pitch of a child’s, like Carl’s, but it isn’t the adult timbre that Micah already has either.

Before Lori can argue, Carl is folded into the phalanx of children, who usher him off to the car as if they know they have a limited window to escape her interference. Shane figures none of the kids have missed Lori’s attitude toward the Dixon kids, in particular.

A good portion of the rest of camp is loading laundry into the back of Daryl’s pickup. Quinn approaches, eyeing Shane briefly. He’s sitting on an overturned bucket, working on cleaning the remaining walker muck off his boots from yesterday in what little shade his Jeep is throwing. He’s not entirely sure what the look is about.

But when she speaks, it’s to Rick and Lori. “We’re taking the laundry down to the lake as well. Thing’s big enough we shouldn’t mess up the kids’ fishing. Figured Lori might want to join us since we don’t know when we’ll have this much water access.”

Well, now he understands the look. After Merle’s intercession last night, this all but reeks of deliberate planning to leave him and Rick alone. He very carefully does not look toward his partner and Lori.

“Can’t you see I’m busy right now?” Lori replies, sounding more anxious than she really should.

“Lori. Geez.” The exasperation in Rick’s voice is undeniable. “Quinn just asked if you wanted to go, and rearranging the Cherokee can wait, or I can finish it up. I am capable of organizing a car, you know.”

“Didn’t figure you’d want to go down there by yourself later,” Quinn adds. “But if you prefer washing three people’s laundry all by your lonesome, please, feel free. Might not dry in time if you wait though.”

Shane risks a sideways glance to see that Lori’s gaping a bit like a fish. Rick’s expression is going from puzzled to exasperated, and Shane remembers the spat Quinn and Lori had the first night Rick was in camp clearly. Quinn is wearing an almost _too_ innocent expression, her hands on her hips as she waits on an answer.

“Fine.” Cornered into having no good reason not to go, Lori begins slamming things around in search of the Grimes’s laundry.

While she's waiting, Quinn turns her attention away from the minor temper tantrum. “Hey, Shane? Toss your bag over and we’ll divide it up along with Dale’s and Jim’s.”

The older man’s in his usual daytime position, on watch, but they’ve improved it a bit by having Jim up on the roof of the barn itself so there’s a watch in multiple directions.

“Everyone gonna walk down?” he asks, standing and reaching for the bag of his laundry.

“Nah. They can pretend to be laundry and ride in the back.”

That seems already underway, since everyone else’s laundry is loaded and the adults aside from Merle are loaded into the back, seated on the sides of the truck bed. Merle disappeared around toward the front of the barn, but he had the clothes lines in hand, so Shane figures he’s setting something up in the courtyard area of the barn.

Amy slides into the cab in the middle of the bench seat as Quinn walks away with Shane’s bag to climb in the driver’s seat, seemingly unconcerned that Lori hasn’t followed yet.

“You’re holding them up, Lori,” Rick nudges. “And we don’t have enough clothes with us to skip chances to wash.”

Shane doesn’t look up until he hears footsteps away, but it means he catches sight of Lori’s livid expression from the passenger seat as the Ford eases by his Jeep to go down to the lake.

“She sure isn’t going to make any friends acting like that,” Rick says with a sigh. He sits on the ground next to Shane’s Jeep, back against the rear wheel. “Was Quinn telling the truth about the laundry issue the other night? Lori treating the others like her maid?”

It’s between a rock and a hard place to answer that. On one hand, answering truthfully is what he should do. It’s not like Rick can’t ask any of the other women to confirm. Shane’s not sure even Andrea would cover for Lori after all the shit about divisions of labor in the quarry camp.

On the other hand, he’s got to confess to his best friend that he slept with his wife, not just once, but regularly, since they fled King County. Anything negative he says against Lori is not going to be seen in any sort of good light with that hanging over his head. His gut churns with a mixture of fear and self-loathing.

“Shane?”

“Before I answer that, got something to tell you.”

He doesn’t even get the words sorted to say before Rick sighs. “I know you and Lori are sleeping together.”

Shane can’t help the startled look he gives Rick. His best friend looks somewhere between exhausted and forlorn. “She tell you?”

It would surprise the hell out of him if Lori did, but he supposes she might try damage control after crossing paths with Merle. Past behavior of the eldest Dixon indicates he just might tell Rick for shits and giggles. But Rick’s behavior today didn’t indicate any such upsetting conversation. Rick’s never had that good a poker face.

“Nah. You still wear cologne, even out here.” 

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Thing is, cologne and perfume? The scents transfer onto clothes and linger. And after more than ten years in a squad car with you, I probably know yours better than I know Lori’s damned expensive perfume.” Rick picks at the inseam of his pants, but he doesn’t seem finished speaking, so Shane waits.

“Smelling it on her shirt, that could be a hug. But Shane, on her goddamned bra? That’s not anything innocent.”

Considering what they got up to in the woods the same day Rick reappeared, Shane imagines it would be a fairly prominent scent.

“It does mean something that you’re man enough to come to me. Wish it were sooner, but I guess things ain’t exactly been on the easy end of the spectrum since I showed back up.”

Shane huffs out a breath. “No fucking kidding. Not laying that on you, Rick. Just wasn’t something I could even get out of my mouth that first night. You were so happy, sitting there with them.”

And the second night they spent watching over a destroyed camp. Having this conversation with Quinn sitting between them? Not possible.

“Tell me something. When did it start? Because I gotta know that before I even begin to wrap my head around it. I gotta know just how long my wife’s been sleeping with us both.”

Shane's more than a little horrified at the idea he would have looked at his brother's wife before the world ended.

“Night after Atlanta was bombed, when we reached the quarry. That’s when it started. After we thought you were dead Never before, man, I promise you. Never so much as looked at her that way.”

He knows beyond a doubt Lori never looked at him either. She certainly said as much, that first time they lay together in his tent after sex that was not about affection, only not being alone in the dark.

“And since? She disappeared for long enough last night.”

Well, fuck. Where the hell did Lori go after Merle sent her on her way?

“She showed up when I was half asleep, but it wasn’t for sex. She wanted to argue against me speaking to you. She thinks I lied to her about you dying to take over your place. With her. With Carl.”

Shane runs a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to pull on the thick strand. “She wasn’t there long after I told her I was telling you. Had to stop her from slapping at me. Only time I touched her last night.”

Rick’s silent long enough that Shane looks up. His best friend is still sitting against the tire, but his eyes are full of tears. 

“Rick, man, I don’t think she exactly wants to lie so much as she wants to save your marriage pretty damn bad. You being in the hospital? That shook her to the core."

"Not sure defending her is a good thing to hear from you right now."

"Alright." Shane sighs, dropping the boot he's no longer working on cleaning. "I'm sorry, brother. Her and Carl, they were all I had with you gone. Don't think I would have ever left that hospital room if not to get them to safety."

"Don't say that, Shane." Rick's blinked away the moisture now, but it just makes the alarmed expression that much more intense.

Shane shrugs. "It's the truth. You're the only family I got left. You and Carl and Lori."

The silence that descends is an uncomfortable one, but Shane isn't sure what else to say.

"Gonna try to fix things with Lori. I survived that damn coma for a reason. If she's willing to try, so am I," Rick says at last.

"Alright." Shane echoes his earlier agreement. He knows what he had with Lori isn't his to keep. He gets one miracle: his brother, living and breathing, or a woman who turned on him so fast he's still not sure he'll ever trust anyone that close again.

In the end, the choice is _always_ Rick.

"All I ask is that I don't lose my family," Shane says softly, staring at his feet. He hates the plea in his voice. Begging's always been hard for his pride to take. Sometimes pride is all he's had to keep him propelled forward.

His elbow is gripped hard and he raises his head to look over at Rick.

"That's not going to happen."

The conviction in Rick's voice is as solid as always, but Shane thinks this is the first time he can't believe him without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a lot of the peak stressors missing, this Shane isn't clinging as desperately to Lori, thank goodness. And without knowledge of Judith yet, Rick's not hammered down as far yet. ;)


	9. Playacting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Quinn come to an agreement about the leadership of the group.

** July 18, 2010 **

Shane's dozing in his stall, belly full of venison and mind worn down by the emotional day, when the stall door opens. He tenses, wary until a whiff of jasmine perfume hits his senses.

Quinn, not Lori.

He opens his eyes to see Quinn looking apologetic.

"Light was on, so I assumed you were awake. I'll let you get some sleep."

"Nah. It's fine. You need something?"

She gives him a sheepish grin. "Was trying to put a little distance between mine and Carol's stall for a little bit. Give her some privacy so she'll give in and sneak next door to Daryl's like I know she wants to."

"You matchmaking Daryl and Carol?" There's a bit of gossip that's got his attention. Better than thinking of the mess he's made of his own life.

"More like they're matchmaking themselves, with me being smart enough not to embarrass them. They've been dancing around it a while, but Carol still had being married stuck in her head."

"And now Ed's dead and gone."

"Yep." Quinn reaches in a pocket and pulls out one of the convenience store sized packages of Nutter Butters. "Share these if you let me hide out for an hour or so."

He can't help laughing at the bribe and motions for her to stay. She drops down to sit on the end of the sleeping bag as soon as he sits up. She's obviously ready for bed, with her hair covered with a silky looking scarf of some sort and lighter clothing than her daytime wear.

"If Carol is slipping off to Daryl's stall, why do you need to hide out?"

Quinn passes him a cookie and shrugs. "If I can hear him fart in his sleep next stall over last night, I sure don't want to eavesdrop on him tonight."

He nearly chokes on his bite of Nutter Butter laughing at that. 

She doesn't speak again right away, handling him another cookie before crumpling the package after taking the last one.

"Why me?" Shane's reasonably certain Merle's still up. He saw the man reading when he walked by earlier. 

He and Quinn have always been friendly, needing to work in tandem to keep the camp functional. She's been a welcome buffer between himself and Merle, in particular. But she's never sought out his company outside of camp business.

"Figured you had a shitty day and might like the company. Easy to get stuck in your own head late at night."

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Figured as much when I didn't have to patch anyone up when we got back."

She digs a deck of cards out of a pocket. "Distraction?"

"What're we playing?"

"Crazy Eights."

He figures what the hell, especially in light of his recently discovered envy of the casual family time he's seen among the Dixons.

"Y'all play cards a lot," he says as she deals.

"Habit I picked up in foster care, especially the group home I spent several years in. If you stay engaged in a game, even just solitaire, you're less likely to be labeled a troublemaker by staff. Decks of cards are cheap and easy to keep up with. Less likely to be stolen, too."

"Why not read?" He knows he's seen her read plenty when she had downtime in the quarry camp.

"Being labeled bookish or uppity is its own special hell with the other kids." She shrugs. "Worst thing I ever did was fall prey to that line of thinking. Didn't graduate high school."

Shane's own homelife wasn't the best, but he always had a home. "What happened to your parents?"

Obviously, she had some contact with her father, to be raising Micah, but he knows that doesn't mean the man was involved with her growing up.

"They never married, understandable after I saw where my daddy came from. Bad enough to have a kid that's not white, but do the right thing and marry her mama too? Wasn't happening."

Quinn being biracial has definitely been the subject of gossip, especially since she rarely seems to intercede with Merle and his mouthy, asshole exchanges with anyone except Glenn. The young Korean is off limits, but she leaves the adults to fend for themselves.

"Her family didn't approve of me either, but she did her best as a single mother. Got by with the child support he sent her and worked as a CNA at the local nursing home. She got hit by a drunk driver when I was eight, coming home from work."

Damn. "And they sent you to foster care?"

"Yep. Her sister didn't feel up to raising another kid with four of her own and recently divorced, so she told them to track my daddy down. They couldn't find him, since he was pretty transitory working the offshore oil rigs. Took him about three months to come see why the checks weren't being cashed."

"And no social worker was going to hand over a girl to a single man with no permanent home and working the rigs," he guesses.

"Bingo. Now the idea of fully abandoning his blood didn't set too well with him. He talked my auntie into taking me in. Paid her what he paid Mama. Worked out fine for a few years til she remarried.

"I was old enough then to be keeping in contact with him. Snagged money out of my aunt's purse and took a bus down to Abbeville. Got lucky on him being home at the time."

"Please tell me you were at least a teenager." He has a feeling the answer is no.

"Eleven." She plays a card. "Spent the next three years in a group home. When he married Micah's mama, she decided a live-in babysitter was awesome."

"What happened to her?"

"She overdosed when Micah was two. Since I was already dropped out of school for my GED, I just kept looking after him. Didn't want to go back to care and definitely didn't want him in it."

"So he's essentially always been yours."

"In a nutshell, yep." Quinn lays her cards down, tilting her head at an odd whistle. "Your visitor from last night is returning."

"Shit." Rick's never going to believe he's trying to stay away from Lori if she keeps coming to see him. It's probably to yell at him again, but it looks godawful.

"Play along." Instead of sitting primly across from him, Quinn's suddenly in his lap just as the stall door creeps open. He doesn't get a good look to confirm it's Lori before he's being kissed pretty thoroughly.

She tastes like peanut butter, he thinks distractedly. He probably does too.

There's a disgruntled sound from Lori that reminds him of the time he stepped on a half-chewed dog toy in someone's yard. He doesn't try to look, because Quinn murmurs against his lips, "Ignore her."

Unsure exactly where to go with what's obviously a show for Lori, he slides his hands onto Quinn's hips.

It earns him a "good boy" and another kiss before Quinn grips the hem of her T-shirt and tugs it off with a toss behind her.

Before he can begin to question that maneuver or try to ignore the very pretty bra now on display, the stall door clacks shut with more force than necessary.

"Maybe that will send her scurrying back where she belongs. If it wouldn't drag all the kids into it, I would go play offended about her 'barging in'."

"Were you planning this?" 

"Honestly, no. I would have given you a warning if I thought she would show back up. Now that there's the possibility you might not be alone, I doubt she'll risk it again."

Quinn moves away finally, settling back at the end of his sleeping bag after snagging one of Shane's own shirts and pulling it on. He finds he doesn't mind her wearing his King County shirt at all.

"You keeping that?" he asked, still more puzzled than anything else. He knows they're friends, or at least that's what he thinks her openness tonight is about. But just friends.

"Just til breakfast or so. That good?"

Huh. She isn't going to make a loud fuss that might alert the kids, but a more subtle approach. "Won't the kids notice that?"

Hell, if it weren't for Carl overhearing, he might be willing to have a shouting match with Lori himself if it would clear the air.

"Maybe, but not likely, and we did your laundry today. Mixups happen. Alibis are important, deputy, even if you're planning on the fly."

Shane laughs. "Christ, woman, you sure your record is clean?"

"Probably no worse than yours. I get the feeling you toed a fine line back in the day."

He gathers the scattered cards and deals a new game. "There was the time someone stole the principal's car for a prank, but I don't believe it was ever proven who did it."

"My, my, grand theft auto. I never aspired that high. There may have been some interesting limericks spray painted in the gym about a spectacular bitch of a gym teacher though."

"That why you dropped out?"

"One of the reasons, yeah. Couldn't graduate without a PE credit and I wasn't about to voluntarily take her class a second time."

"What did your dad think about that?"

"Told me to get a job and went back out on his next tour on the rig." She shrugs. "He was often rather proud that I raised myself up nicely."

Shane's incredulous look makes her giggle. He wonders if that explains the tattoo he saw below her collarbones: Don't just survive, thrive.

"Logic is not always a common Dixon trait, but the lack of adult supervision thing? It's a miracle we didn't all go feral."

"I am gonna plead the fifth on that one."

"Smart move."

They're quiet through several plays before Quinn speaks again. "You said once that Rick's family was all you had left."

It's a question without being a question, and since he's been nosy enough about her life, he answers.

"Mama died of cancer when I was thirteen. She worked at the grocery store back home her whole adult life. Daddy was a prison guard. Kept applying for deputy and getting turned down. Died when I was in college of a heart attack on the job."

"You become a deputy to spite him or make him proud?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Truthfully? No. But past motivations often predict future actions, don't you think?"

"It was not to make him proud. What does that tell you?"

"That you're willing to work hard even if the odds are against you."

"I suppose that's true." His grandmother and Rick were the ones who saw something more than just another jock in him. 

She flicks a card at him and he catches the eight of spades. "Yeah, it is. Now that you aren't so stuck in your cycle of grief and guilt and can start healing, it'll be interesting to see what kind of leader you become."

"Rick…"

She interrupts him. "I'm sure Rick is a good man, but he's got PTSD that makes Merle look stable right now. In time, once he's adjusted and finished recovering physically, maybe. But right now? No."

"That's not negotiable, is it?" Guilt arcs through him. He and Rick have always been partners.

Quinn shakes her head. "I don't want to rock the boat when people need stability, but that's also why I would have to. We've kept these people safe for a while now, Shane."

Damn, those pale green eyes are intense as she continues. "This isn't a dictatorship by any means, but the wrong decisions get made, these people die. I like them too much to see that happen."

Shane realizes for the first time that she might have been perfectly willing to work alongside him for weeks, but she will only continue to do that as long as she trusts him to make the right decisions.

"I can work with that." 

Rick will understand, he thinks, and it's not like they've disregarded anyone's input. Rick, Daryl, and Glenn all helped plan their exodus. Merle's a knife edge of stability on his best days, much like she implies Rick is. He's not sure any of the others will ever step forward enough to even consider leading.

"Good."

She checks her watch and gathers the cards. "Almost time for your watch shift. Walk me back to mine?"

"Sure." He tugs his boots back on and laces them up. 

Quinn's waiting for him at the stall door. He arches a brow when she links their hands.

"Trust me."

Her stall is three down, the one closest to the big main doors, just like his is near the exit on the other end. He's pulled half into the unoccupied stall, where shadows would hide most interaction. From outside, they'll be mistaken for kissing again.

"Quinn?" He's not sure of the audience yet. He didn't see anyone in the open areas, just a few half shut doors.

"We are being watched." Quinn's hand cups the nape of his neck, playing with the shorter hair there. He snags her belt loops, keeping his hands hidden from anyone behind him.

"Who are we playacting for now?"

"Rick for sure, probably Lori."

"Not sure it'll help."

"In the past, how did you get over a breakup?"

Light dawns and he laughs softly. "You already got me figured out?"

It's a good plan, because she's right. The few times a woman stuck around long enough to make it uncomfortable when it ended, he rebounded and fast.

"Not everything, but the basics, you aren't that different than Merle." She smiles at his surprise. Once he would argue the comparison. Now? He'll wait and see. "Best go relieve Glenn before the poor boy thinks he's up there all night."

"Yes, ma'am."

He very carefully doesn't look toward Rick's stall as he goes to relieve Glenn on watch. Morales is returning already, so he assumes T-Dog's already taken up the second post.

Behind him, he hears Quinn tell Rick morning comes awful early, even for peeping toms.

He smiles, because Rick laughs, and it's not the weaker, almost forced reaction from earlier today, after the anguished confessions.

Rick laughs like all just might be right in his world finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinn seems to consider Glenn one of her ducklings...
> 
> Sly, sly, background Caryl.


	10. Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearing cars on a jammed highway leads to a close call for one of the children.

**July 20, 2010**

Shane pulls to a stop where 154 splits off from 29. To the south, the highway is a massive traffic jam. Merle circles the Triumph back, bringing it to idle next to the Jeep.

“We can try to move those, but it looks like it goes on at least a mile. Something must’ve went wrong and people tried to divert off the freeway. I’m gonna scout ahead to 85, see if it’s just as clogged up.”

As soon as Shane nods, the man’s boot is off the pavement and the bike back underway, disappearing southeast on 154. Glenn reaches for the atlas, so Shane drops the Jeep into park and walks back two vehicles to Quinn’s Expedition to pass on Merle’s information.

Quinn sighs. They spent another day at the horse barn, gathering from the houses in the area and expanding their carrying capacity for potable water. But now they’ve hit a major roadblock less than an hour on the road. It was slow going getting here, because of the larger population in Newnan that seemed stuck between going to Atlanta versus Columbus.

“Well, if we’re going to have to change routes anyway, why don’t we all pull over on 154 and work the jam? Gotta be useful supplies in there, and any walkers trapped deserve to be laid to rest.”

It’s an idea broached at supper last night, that if they’re going to search houses, they might as well search vehicles too. No one wants to stop specifically for that purpose, but with the number of cars stranded here, it’s a good place to try it out. Not everyone was comfortable with the idea, but in the end, all agreed.

He agrees, and Quinn radios it to the other drivers while he heads back to the Jeep. Parking everyone doesn’t take long, and Glenn’s already got an alternate route ready when they gather.

“154 to Sharpsburg, then 54 south. We’ll have to cross back over the freeway to reach 29 again, between Lone Oak and Hogansville, but maybe it’ll be clear by then.”

No one disputes the Korean’s growing expertise with this part of Georgia, so with Dale and Jesse set to watch, the rest divide into pairs or groups to search the cars.

Rick falls in beside Shane with practiced ease, clearing the older model Chevy pickup easily with a glance inside. “Got keys. Want me to turn it on to see if the battery’s still good? Save siphoning if it’s running near empty.”

“Sure.” Merle’s advice, which Jim backed, was to start with the oldest vehicles for the fastest siphoning, thus why they’re next to a Chevy truck that looks like it might be a year or two older than Shane himself. The rollover valves in the more modern vehicles require a different siphon than Shane’s carrying, so they’ll only hit those if they end up with any empty fuel cans.

“Half a tank.”

“Well, that’ll top off both of these cans.” They’re also the only two empties they have at the moment. The others are all full, as are the tanks on the vehicles. Shane gets the process started while Rick climbs on the bumper to inspect the loosely packed items in the back of the truck.

“Another gas can in here, but looks like it’s full.”

“Brother, I am not objecting to gas that we don’t have to coax out of a sitting vehicle.”

Rick laughs and swings his leg over the tailgate to better rummage through everything. “More tools we might want. Looks like whoever had this truck was a decent mechanic.”

The owner’s probably wandered miles from here now, if the rural walkers congregate together like the city ones do. There’s a commotion further up the row that makes them both pause, alert to any need for help.

But a muffled curse and the distinct thwack of a machete sounds before Daryl calls out. “Sumbitch wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.”

Shane snorts. “Wanna go write him a ticket, Rick?”

He figures he probably earned the dog-chewed tennis ball tossed at his head with that one.

“Christ. I hope the dog at least got loose,” Rick says. He holds up a half-full bag of dog food. “Think we should take it? If there’s really farm animals there, I have a vague memory that chickens will eat any damn thing.”

“Works to go fishing with, too. Sure.”

Rick drops the half bag and a full bag of Pedigree dog food over the back of the tailgate, along with a tent bag and a sleeping bag. “Hoping we don’t need to camp where we’re going, but can’t hurt to replace what we lost, right?”

Shane nods, switching out the now full gas can for the empty and returning to working the hand pump. “They pack any actual food for this trip, or they just feeding the dog?”

It wouldn’t be entirely surprising for a frantic pet owner evacuating to forget their own provisions in favor of the dog’s, especially not here in Georgia. Shane’s met people who valued their dogs over their own kids on a regular basis.

Rick releases the tailgate and slides a couple of boxes toward it. The boxes are liquor store discards, but Shane takes a look to see all three are packed with canned goods. They work in silence as Rick checks the duffel bag, rifling through clothes. 

“Anybody still in need of clothes?” he asks.

“Not sure. Can put it out there to see if anyone claims it when we load up.”

Shane’s distracted by Harper and Sophia returning back toward the vehicles from further down the line. Both girls are carrying reusable grocery bags that look fairly heavy. The neglected grass along the highway is over knee high on them both, brushing against their jeans and boots.

“You girls got a good haul on the groceries,” Shane remarks. They both grin at him and pause a minute, bags swinging lightly.

“Y’all need us to take stuff to the trailers?” Harper asks. “Mama said we should be runners for everyone.”

He nods toward the boxes on the end of the tailgate. “Y’all are welcome to grab those on your next trip.”

Sophia steps forward and peers into a box, since Rick didn’t refasten the flaps. “Oh, cool. Pineapple.”

Shane’s not entirely sure what draws his attention to the tall grass just beyond Harper, but he’s damned glad of it.

“Harper, sweetheart, I need you to hold real still. Steady and stop swinging that bag.” To her credit, the girl obeys without question, green eyes on him even as the big fruit-motif shopping bag halts next to her calf. 

The copperhead, disturbed by the noise of people for probably the first time in months and then the girls tramping through the grass, strikes, but there’s a bit of a thunk as the impact hits the laden bag and not the girl’s jean-clad leg.

“I’m gonna put the bag down slow,” the girl says. She eases it down and moves slowly toward Shane, accepting the near bodily lift he gives her once she’s in reach. He perches her on the side of the truck bed. Looking back toward the still coiled, anxious snake, she grins. “Holy crap, but he’s pretty.”

Shane laughs softly. Nearly getting bitten doesn’t cause most people to admire the snake trying to do it, but then again, this kid lives and breathes the outdoors.

“Yeah, well, luckily he got a bite of Del Monte and not baby Dixon,” he remarks.

Harper giggles, smothering the sound and still craning her neck to look. Sophia, plucked up onto the tailgate by Rick, is leaning out to look too. His best friend is eyeing the two girls as if he’s starting to really understand the campfire chat about them now.

The snake is starting to relax from his striking pose now that nothing’s constantly swinging near him. Their stance is drawing attention, so Shane takes the chance that calling out won’t agitate the little snake.

“Copperhead in the grass. We’re just waiting on him to move along, but might want to keep an eye out.”

“Okay, how do you know it’s a copperhead again?” Sophia asks.

“Hershey kisses on the pattern on the sides. Corn snakes and rat snakes are more spotty,” Harper replies. “It’s an adult. Juveniles have a weird yellow tail that they use like a fishing lure to get prey to come close. Funniest old wives tale I ever heard about them was that they can sting you with their tail.”

“That would be one hell of a crossbred snake,” Shane comments.

“Like a Pokemon.” The girl flashes him a grin. She hasn’t moved away from where her legs are bumping against him, content to just lean out and brace one hand on his shoulder. Then again, she’s used to casual affection from her motley crew of male relatives.

“What do they eat?” Sophia asks. It’s worth killing the time, he supposes, since the snake is still eyeing them like it’s the goat from Jurassic Park and they’re the T-Rex.

“Amphibians, lizards, smaller snakes, little mammals like mice and rats. They eat bugs, but they really like to eat cicadas. It’s why you have to be careful after dark where cicadas are, in case the copperheads are looking for snacks.”

Harper smiles at his thorough answer, fingers wiggling on his shoulder.

“Gross.” But Sophia says it with the emphasis Shane is used to Carl using for where anything gross is actually fascinating. Shane exchanges a look with Rick, who is kneeling next to Sophia with his arms propped on the side of the truck bed to watch the snake too.

“Are you really not scared of the snake, Harper?” Rick asks. “I know they said you cooked one, back at the quarry, but it wasn’t venomous.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be real happy at all right now if it bit me, but as long as that didn’t happen, it’s just a pretty snake.”

The snake finally decides freezing isn’t the best option for survival and flees into the woods. As soon as it slithers out of sight, Harper surprises him with a hug before sliding to the ground. 

“Thank you for not killing it.”

“Didn’t even think about that, I promise. That’s how most people get bit anyway.” Or called in to the sheriff’s department for accidentally shooting their idiot selves.

She goes to eye the bag. “Hey, Mama, should we rinse this bag the snake tried to bite?”

Quinn approaches, mumbling about children shortening her lifespan by decades. “Can’t hurt, in case someone’s got a cut. Sit it by the trailer at the Expedition and I’ll clean it first. Bet that was a hell of a shock for that poor snake. Might not have even gotten any venom out since it couldn’t really bite.”

Harper picks up the bag and once Sophia hops down to join her, trails off to do as she was told.

“You’re awfully calm,” Rick says. “I suspect Lori would still be screaming about her baby being that close to a deadly snake.”

“After raising these three, and living with Merle and Daryl, I prefer to save my hysterical moments for the really big issues. Like Micah taking a spill off a motorcycle three weeks after his license went permanent for the damn thing.” 

She studies the grass and sighs. “I wish antivenom was not a refrigerated item. It would be real nice to have a stash of vials. You can survive a copperhead bite without it, but it’s not a fun recovery period.”

“We should probably make sure everyone is only out areas like this with boots and jeans too,” Shane suggests.

“Another thing for the educate the city slickers column,” Quinn grumbles. “Along with what not to do if they get bit, like try to suck out the venom like some stupid Hollywood movie nightmare.” 

She pats his chest. “Thanks for spotting the damn thing. I’m gonna survive all the male Dixons to have the female one give me the heart attack.”

“Quinn? Got another occupied car,” Daryl calls out.

“Keep your britches on. I’m coming.” 

Shane’s watching her go when Rick nudges his shoulder. He looks back at his best friend, who grins. “I know she’s a pretty sight, brother, but you only filled that gas can half way.”

“Smartass.”

He’s just glad the illusion of a relationship that hangs over his friendship with Quinn keeps things headed toward recovery with Rick. Lori hasn't avoided him so thoroughly since the time she accidentally flashed him her thong panties junior year of high school.

It definitely entertains Quinn that Lori gapes like a fish and tamely agrees to just about every suggestion the other woman makes now. It'll wear off, eventually, but they can enjoy the quiet while it lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just all GRR from all the anti snake posts on FB lately. So y'all get a snakey post. 🐍
> 
> PSA:. In the U.S., if you get bitten by a snake, you don't need to know what bit you. There are only two types of antivenom: one for coral snakes and one for pit vipers. Please don't kill the snake and carry it into an ER where it can potentially envemomate a healthcare worker.
> 
> Btw, while I normally consider the Greene Farm and town to be Senoia, for this story it's Sharpsburg (which is where they filmed the pharmacy and high school scenes anyway.)


	11. No Hesitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A raid on a pharmacy puts the group onto the path of a group of bandits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: there is an interrupted assault attempt in this chapter (non-graphic). Summary at end for anyone who needs to skip it.

** July 20, 2010 **

They've collected a decent haul of supplies in the hour Merle's gone. The Triumph can be heard before it arrives, so all of the searchers head back for the cars. Merle cuts the engine as soon as he stops, waiting on Quinn and Shane to reach him.

"Road's clear most of the way to Sharpsburg. Didn't go all the way down. 85 is passable til Newnan and then there's a military checkpoint in the middle of the freeway. That's probably why the jam happened up here."

Trust folks to go around the military, but Shane supposes they might have just assumed an accident and not a government checkpoint.

"What's the checkpoint look like?" he asks.

"Not much. Just a couple of Humvees and a cargo truck. Didn't even see any walkers rouse to the engine's sound." Merle shifts restlessly. "You thinking of raiding the vehicles?"

Shane exchanges a look with Quinn, who nods.

"They're bound to be useful and could have supplies, right?"

Merle nods. "Run on anything just about and probably fueled up before they were sent up. Probably regular Army and not Guard this close to Benning."

"We can spare the drivers, if they'll run," Quinn says. "Especially the cargo truck."

Shane nods and he and Quinn walk back to where everyone is sorting their newest supplies into the vehicle trailers. News of the checkpoint is greeted with acceptance, and Morales agrees with Merle about the ability to run the vehicles on various fuels.

Loading up takes another half hour, but circling down to the checkpoint less than ten. There are no walkers visible, but searching turns up that one is trapped in the rear of one of the Humvees.

"Poor bastard probably climbed up in there to safety, but got bit first," Daryl grumbles. "Somebody let him out."

Rick steps up to the rear door and yanks it open. As soon as the fully geared walker stumbles into daylight, Daryl releases a bolt, taking him down neatly. Merle's strangely gentle as he searches the man, removing a sidearm with a spent magazine and lingering over the dog tags before tucking them back inside the uniform.

Before Shane can ask, Morales speaks softly next to him. "If you can't take the body, you take the tags, but who would we give them to?"

He goes to help Merle move the body into the grass. No one comments when they cover the man with an emergency blanket they found in his supplies.

Just one of the Humvees is a troop carrier setup. The other has a rack on the back with four completely full jerrycans of fuel. The cargo truck also has enough jerrycans to refuel itself and one of the Humvees.

While Daryl and Quinn climb up to inspect the supplies in the back of the cargo truck, Morales approaches Shane and Rick, looking uneasy.

"This is not a good sign," he says, looking to Merle for confirmation. The older man nods. "This close to a major military installation and there's not only abandoned equipment, but men?"

"Ain't how the Army does it," Merle adds. "Equipment, maybe in a rush, if they're swarmed. But not one of their brothers. They fight battles to retrieve bodies."

Shane sighs. "Rick, didn't you say the checkpoint at King County was abandoned, too?"

"It was. Didn't even see any walkers, just a bunch of supplies and vehicles. About eight Humvees, two helicopters, just that I can remember."

"You think Benning fell?" Shane asks the two veterans. They exchange a look and nod.

"Reckon it don't change plans much," Merle drawls. "Just keep heading for the lake. But we might want to be even more diligent on collecting up supplies."

"Fuck. Well, can't argue that," Shane mutters. "Can you see if these will run? They're probably more reliable than anything we have."

Morales and Merle both agree. Morales goes off to the cargo truck, while Merle heads for the Humvee that held the lone walker. Both vehicles rumble to life, and Merle emerges to start up the second Humvee.

Quinn drops to the ground and heads for Shane. "Good selection of supplies. Got water and MREs on board, so either they were supposed to be here a while, or they were being cautious about being cut off."

"The two vets think this isn't a good sign that Benning held," Shane tells her. He can tell by the lack of surprise that she's already had the same thought.

"I think we stick to the plan. Just now we maybe keep an eye on what we can glean from the military leftovers."

"That was Merle's general idea too."

"Carol can drive Daryl's truck, so we can shift Morales to drive a Humvee and who for the third?"

"I will. Glenn can drive my Jeep."

Uneasy about the sound of the diesels idling, they load up and drive the wrong way on the freeway back to 154. The downside of the three new vehicles is the same as Merle's motorcycle: no compatible radio. Shane's near the rear of the caravan now and he can't see the reason they're stopping.

It's Merle who brings word back to the three rear vehicles. "FEMA camp at the high school. It's got a med trailer, but it looks like the place was used for a failed refugee camp."

Shane rubs the back of his head. Medical supplies are worth their weight in gold these days. "Think we can clear it?"

"Yeah. We got enough of the quieter weaponry if folks are willing to go on the ground too."

"Alright. Let's get set up."

They end up with the taller vehicles nudged to the fences. It's hot, gorey work, stabbing the walkers through the fence while the archers aim from above. Shane wishes they could afford to use firearms, but no one wants to waste ammo that's not reusable with a little cleaning and bleach.

There are easily fifty walkers down when Quinn joins him, using a tire iron like a pike through the fence. "Gave the girls the last of my arrows." 

Micah and Jesse fall in beside Quinn, working with quiet, snarky conversation that makes Shane snort in laughter.

"Are they running a head count?"

Quinn nods, tugging her tire iron back through the fence. "It's irreverent, I know, but considering what they're having to do, I'm letting it roll."

Shane supposes he can understand that. He looks down the fence line, seeing that everyone is looking as tired and sweaty as he feels. Surprisingly, even Lori is helping, although that may be from not wanting to be the only adult sitting it out other than Dale, who's acting as watch.

He stabs two more before the clog of fallen bodies prevents any others from approaching.

"How's it looking, Dale?" he calls up.

"I can still count at least twenty mobile, but they're out of reach."

An arrow zips by, making a wet thud into the forehead of a walker near Shane. "We're out," Harper calls down from the top of a Humvee.

"Alright. Time to open the gate to finish it off," Shane calls out. "Ladies, fall back as watch in case there's a weak spot we missed."

Merle circled the entire fenced-in area, but there's always the risk of walkers outside the fence. The big redneck is the one to pop the lock open, dragging the chains off even as a walker manages to stumble over the fallen ones and face plants in the opening. Glenn cleaves its skull with a machete and steps back into line with the others.

Finishing the last of the walkers is damn near boring. Every damn one of them mindlessly trips over the same bodies as the first. It leaves them to take turns. 

"Two incoming," Quinn calls out from her end of their vehicles. With their gate covered, Shane chances looking. 

Quinn steps forward toward a walker that towers over her in height, calling out to Carol. "Legs, then head." She bypasses the walker, confusing it, and hamstrings it with a machete before finishing it off.

Carol is clumsier, and she could probably skip the step of knocking it down because her walker is smaller than she is. But she follows the same pattern.

"Practice," Glenn says, catching Shane's puzzled look. "She made me practice on smaller ones like that before I took on the big ones."

"Huh. Need her to train the other women that way."

Once they have five minutes go by with no new walkers sighted, cleanup begins. They drag walkers clear of the gates, advancing a team of four toward the FEMA trailer. It's unoccupied, so Quinn ventures inside.

Five minutes later, she returns. "Trailer is gonna be too heavy to tow, but we can strip it bare of supplies. They didn't seem to use much."

"Must have gotten overrun early on," Shane assesses. The walkers they've laid to rest are from all walks of life, including a pair of county deputies and the paramedics that probably belong to two ambulances in the area. King County looked much the same way when Shane grabbed Lori and Carl.

"Easiest to just back the cargo truck off in here," Quinn suggests. 

He sends Morales back to get the truck. "What about the ambulances?"

"If the keys can be located for the bigger one, it wouldn't be a bad thing to just take one. Micah can drive my Ford. Load any leftover supplies from the smaller rig into the larger one."

"We're going to end up with a mile long caravan," Daryl grumbles, but he goes to relay the idea to Rick and Jacqui where they're inspecting the smaller ambulance.

It's Miranda Morales who locates the keys, not in the pockets of any of the paramedics, but kicked beneath the bigger ambulance. By the time they've loaded everything and checked all the walkers, they have a plastic shopping bag full of IDs, mostly off the males. Purses just don't travel well with the undead.

"Leave this in the FEMA trailer. It's at least a record of who was here once the bodies are gone." Micah takes the bag from Shane and jogs over to the trailer. 

Shane tries not to think of the badges riding in that bag. He didn't know either man, with there being a bit of a buffer between this county and his home. But they're still fellow deputies who died doing their jobs.

At least now they are at rest.

"Map from the trailer shows they have a pharmacy in town," Rick notes, looking at the paper spread on the hood of the Cherokee.

"Alright. We'll park and go in on foot rather than drag the whole caravan down that side street." Quinn folds the map and passes it off to Glenn, who tucks it with the others he's collecting.

It's not far at all to the next stop. Glenn and Quinn disembark with duffels. 

"We should take another pair," Glenn says. "Stand guard while we load, if there's any meds."

Quinn looks down the row of vehicles, nodding slowly. This is her domain, not Shane's, so he waits. "Shane and Jacqui."

He's already killed the engine on the Humvee, so he climbs out and reaches for his machete. Jacqui joins him, her weapon of choice is a softball bat. She's got a gun at her belt now, courtesy of a few hours practice back at the horse farm.

Daryl and Dale climb to watch points, and Shane can see them alert as Quinn and Glenn lead the way across a grassy area, approaching the pharmacy building from behind.

They both halt, Quinn holding up one finger before pointing to the side of the building.

Tethered to a bush beside the building is a saddled horse. He's quietly grazing what grass he can reach and looks undisturbed by his visitors.

"Probably a local, if they're riding," Quinn says softly. "We can try to touch base. Make contact."

Shane shrugs. "Worth a shot."

Before they can make it to the front of the building, there's a half-smothered, feminine scream.

"We got the back, you take the front," Shane orders. Quinn nods and they split into pairs. The back door isn't locked, yielding easily when Shane tries the handle and he realizes it's broken. Keeping Jacqui behind him, he weaves through a maze of boxes and office furniture.

Just as he clears into the shop front, he sees Glenn take a swing with his bat. The man crumples instantly from the impact to his head. Shane can't see Quinn, but he can see the strange woman struggling on the floor. The gun to her head drops this neatly into his old wheelhouse and his gun is drawn almost by instinct.

"Buddy, this goes one of two ways," he starts, glad that he's in one of his King County shirts after changing out of the earlier grimy shirt from clearing the FEMA camp. The grungy man's eyes definitely orient toward the logo.

"Either you let that woman go, and we handle this the proper way, or my partner puts a bullet through your head."

"Your partner is behind you and hasn't drawn her gun."

"Jacqui's not my partner."

The man actually wavers, trying to assess the room. Glenn's got his bat on his shoulder, working well as intimidation with the blood smeared down it. The kid's got one hell of a dead eyed stare when he needs it. The gun to the woman's head wavers, and Shane assesses taking a shot.

The distraction works for whatever Quinn is planning, because she pops into view behind the man and jolts him in the groin with a stun gun. He drops like a rock, and Quinn snatches the woman to her, already running a patter of calming speech as she tugs her out of Shane's line of sight.

The guy on the floor is choking on vomit, so Shane rolls him to one side with a booted foot. He stoops to take the dropped gun, checking the safety and tucking it away. "Jacqui, can you see if she needs any help?"

The woman hurries off while Shane turns to Glenn. "Throw me that jump rope from the toy display."

Glenn releases his grip on the bat to grab a blue and white jump rope and toss it to Shane. It takes just a minute to leave the man hog-tied in the puddle of vomit.

"Is he supposed to vomit?"

"Ever felt like vomiting after you got kicked in the nuts?" Shane asks, checking for and finding a weak pulse in the man's wrist that Glenn waylaid. He hands the man's gun to Glenn, who clears the chamber and drops the gun and magazine into his bag.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Give me another rope."

Glenn hands it over, this one red and white. "Why are we tying them up?"

"Because we might want to know if they're part of a larger group when we're traveling into unknown territory." Shane finishes tying up the second man. "Although this one probably won't be much help. You did good, and I think she did damage too. Looks like his nose is broken."

Shane can hear soft women's voices still. "Do you need anything, Quinn?"

"Ever cracked the narcotics cabinet at a pharmacy, deputy?"

"No, but I'm sure I can figure it out. Watch the doors, Glenn."

The kid nods and Shane steps behind the counter. It doesn't take him long to retrieve the meds, and he's not sure what Quinn needs, so he clears everything into a reusable shopping bag.

"Coming around," he announces, handing the bag off to Quinn and backing up around the aisle again. "Can she be moved? This place is too open."

With the protective gates raised, the front of the pharmacy is all glass. It makes his skin crawl these days, and he can see a pickup truck he suspects is the transport of these two bastards. It's across the street at a place with a defunct neon bar sign.

"Hey, Maggie. Think you're up for getting out of this place? You can't ride with that collarbone broken, but we can get you home." He's close enough to hear them clearly now.

"Yes, please." A pause and a groan. "That's the deputy with you?"

"Yeah, one of two. The other is back with the rest of our people." Quinn and Jacqui appear, trying to support the woman with one arm immobilized against her chest with an elastic bandage.

"Back is a maze, but still better than going out front," Shane says. Quinn nods, letting Jacqui guide the three women.

"Help me pull the gates down, Glenn. Even if we can't lock them, it'll make the place look more abandoned."

Glenn nods, actually figuring out the locking mechanism. When they jog after the women, the pharmacy is locked up tight from the front. Shane snags the reins of the horse, coaxing the animal to follow. It obeys easily once it spots Maggie moving slowly ahead.

"What do we do now?"

"We get her home and then we see if those assholes live long enough to explain how they're surviving in this day and age."

"Will I be allowed to help?"

Shane takes a long look at the kid's determined expression and remembers the complete lack of hesitation in that swing.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After raiding a military checkpoint and the FEMA medical camp at the high school, a team goes to raid a pharmacy. Glenn, Shane, Jacqui, and Quinn disable Maggie's attackers and plan to get her home and find out if the two men are alone.
> 
> In other words, we're skipping the lost child and wounded child scenario and going rogue with a different season two plotlines.


	12. Tip the Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and some of the women return Maggie home, and her first encounter with Hershel is at least friendly.

** July 20, 2010 **

Quinn eases the Expedition down the long and winding driveway that Maggie indicates leads to her home. The farm is sloppy on its fencing around the house itself, making her wonder how they've survived this long with walkers around. The sheer innocence shows a lack of common sense, dangerously so.

Then again, her view is colored by the quarry camp attack. They were more than a little sloppy there on security themselves. But dammit, they didn't have over a hundred head of cattle ringing the dinner bell like these people do. Walkers probably can't eat the cattle, not easily, but that just sends them looking for easier meals.

She glances at Maggie, who is curled up in the passenger seat and probably in a good amount of pain. The girl didn't want major painkillers, because she needs and wants to remain alert until she's back with her family. Quinn can't blame her for that.

With the nature of what the men, Jacqui, and Andrea are about to do in interrogating their captives, Quinn has all the children and their mothers with her. It crowds even the roomy SUV, but Louis doesn't look all that upset to be regulated to sitting in his mother's lap in the rearmost seat.

The journey is a slow one because Maggie's horse is trotting alongside them. She knows the animal could probably have beaten them to her home by instinct and not needing to use roads. But it's a risk to the animal she isn't willing to take. Horses are more flighty and fragile than cattle. Rick already proved how vulnerable a lone horse can be, back in Atlanta.

Harper's happy enough to coax the mare along, reins in her hands through the open window. She wanted to ride, but no matter how expert the girl is, Quinn's not putting her eleven-year-old on a horse out in the open in this world. It was hard enough to deem Jesse and Micah old enough to stay behind, even with Xander to protect Micah like he always has in all his doggie devotion.

"You're sure your father will speak before he reacts?" she asks. They can see the farmhouse now and a couple of figures on the porch.

"Yeah. He's about as non-violent as they come." Maggie's leaning forward now, anxious to be home.

"When I stop, I'm going to let you get out and explain. Harper, you can turn the horse loose when we do."

Quinn sees her daughter's head bob in agreement from where she sits directly behind her, with Sophia in the middle and Carol behind Maggie.

"No one else leaves the truck unless we're invited."

Murmurs of assent settle Quinn's nerves a little, and she eases the truck to a stop where Maggie doesn't have far to walk.

The height of the truck proves an issue for Maggie, and Quinn sighs. Luckily, a white haired man moves forward, looking concerned. Quinn strapped Maggie's arm to her chest, immobilizing the broken collarbone because there isn't much else to be done for it.

"Maggie, what happened? Did the horse throw you?"

"No, she didn't. I was attacked, and Quinn's people helped me."

Kindly eyes look Quinn's way, but despite the seeming softness of the man, she notes he scans what he can see of the interior. Women and children are unlikely to set off warning bells in a man like Hershel Greene. He's lucky, this time, that they have no ill intent. Women and kids are dangerous in their own right, given the proper tools and circumstances.

"Thank you for helping Maggie. Was it one of the sick ones?"

The terminology baffles Quinn at first, but she shakes her head. "Plain human males."

The elder man isn't so naive as to not understand the emphasis on male. Real alarm blooms in his expression as he eases Maggie to the ground. A blond teenage boy is trying to catch the loose horse, to no avail.

"It's okay, Daddy," Maggie soothes. "They were stopped in time."

That's one way of putting it, but Quinn's well familiar with the experience that the attempt is as traumatic as the act, in different ways. 

"She has a broken collarbone for certain and possibly a zygomatic fracture, but that'll take an X-ray to confirm," Quinn tells him. He has better training than she does, as a vet. "The rest seems to be scrapes and contusions. We have some medicine for her, but she wanted to stay alert until we got here."

By tomorrow, Maggie's face is likely to be a mass of color, as well as other places, like her wrists. The girl took a hell.of a beating, fighting back the way she did, but Quinn can't blame her.

"You have medical training?" A woman comes forward, coaxing Maggie toward the house, promising a shower.

"Paramedic, before. Seems even more necessary these days."

The older man nods, accepting the bag she passes him through the window. "You aren't from around here."

"No, further north, near the mountains." She knows that even after more than a decade in Georgia, her accent isn't quite right, but she opts for home rather than origin. "We're heading west, to see if Fort Benning survived what Atlanta didn't." 

It's not their entire destination, since she agrees with their former military that Benning probably fell, too. But it's enough to soothe the oldtimer.

He understands what she's imparting, because he nods and clears his throat. "I should offer hospitality to your people, at least for the night. For what you did for my daughter."

"This is just a small part of our group," she cautions. "Just most of the women and children."

He doesn't really want to expand the offer, but he looks toward the children and gives an abrupt nod. "A day or two to rest should be fine."

"Alright. We can set up camp over there in the open field, if that's good." He nods.

Maggie hoped for this, hoping outside viewpoints will convince her father of the danger in the world outside their farm. Quinn's people don't need the rest, but they can at least try to help Maggie out. Saving her now to see her fall victim to the next round of bandits or a larger group of walkers seems irresponsible.

She reaches for the radio mike, glad that they're in range. Dale takes the message and tells her they'll be there before dark.

"If the children want to gather on the porch, we can see about some snacks and drinks." She can tell the man's anxious to get to the house and his injured daughter, but afraid to go at the same time.

"Drinks would be appreciated, but they have snacks." Quinn gives a little nod when Carol meets her eyes in the mirror. The other woman opens her door, which signals Harper to do so as well.

While Hershel had an idea of how many visitors, she can tell the others are a little overwhelmed when there are four women and five children there. The kids are happy enough to sprawl in the grass for now, glad to be out of the confines of a vehicle.

Quinn introduces everyone, taking careful note of faces to the names Maggie already explained. 

Otis, a volunteer firefighter and EMT, gives off a teddy bear vibe stronger than Dale does. Jimmy, typically teenage boy, who dismisses all the younger children easily, even when Harper goes to help him catch the cranky mare. Beth - who is such a wide-eyed innocent that Quinn fears for her in the old and new worlds.

She'll figure Patricia out later, but she likes the quiet competence she showed in getting Maggie out of everyone's line of sight.

Hershel watches the children with a sort of absentminded fondness that reassures Quinn of their safety here. Beth distributes glasses of iced sweet tea with Carol and Lori's help. He turns to Quinn, after listening for something in the house.

When Quinn concentrates, she can hear a shower running still.

"How many others?"

"My boys, both about Jimmy's age. Nine men, two women. Two of the men were cops, one married to Lori. Another of the men is Miranda's husband. Two are cousins of mine."

A dozen new people plus the nine already here would be overwhelming even in better times. But Hershel just nods.

"I would prefer that weapons not be carried on the property." 

Quinn shifts, uneasy about being completely unarmed. "With men like that out there, you have to understand that I don't like the idea of my people completely unprotected."

Even now, she's fully armed down to her recharged stun gun. That's less obvious than her gun, though, or the larger knife on her belt.

The idea of the men makes him pause. "Perhaps the officers and yourself could continue to carry firearms."

"We can work with that. We keep a watch at all times. The watch stander will be armed with a rifle, but only on watch. Several of our people carry bows and almost everyone has knives."

"Hunting implements are acceptable. It's far more difficult to have a fatal accident with those."

Quinn knows it will make the others uneasy to give up their guns, but it'll be a good lesson that they need to learn the quieter weapons. She nods. "True enough."

The shower shuts off and Hershel flinches. "Otis? Can you fetch the portable X-ray from my work truck?"

The portly man heads off toward an old pickup. Quinn watches as Hershel's hands tighten on the porch railing.

"She'll be okay. There will be nightmares, and she's going to be angry and weepy, sometimes separately and sometimes both at once. But from what little I've seen, she's a survivor."

Those eyes are a little too knowing when the old vet looks at Quinn. "It sounds like you speak more from professional experience. Perhaps you can speak with her? I don't think a man like myself has the appropriate vocabulary."

"I can, if she's willing. But one thing I can tell you is that lacking that knowledge every female past puberty has that being assaulted is probable instead of just possible isn't a strike against you. Even when her mind goes down the darkest paths, I imagine you're going to feel like the safest person in the world for her."

Hershel takes the suitcase sized equipment from Otis. Halfway to the door, he pauses, looking back to where Quinn is leaning on the railing for the porch steps.

"Did you have a father to stand as that for you?"

She smiles sadly and shakes her head. "I had no one, at first, but eventually I did."

It's the root of the relationship between her and Merle that she knows confuses everyone. But it's not their right to know that her familial devotion is rooted in nightmares and flashbacks where he was her anchor back as much as she is his when his damaged mind wins out over his free will. 

Hershel accepts the vague answer and goes inside the house. Times like this, Quinn wishes she smoked like Daryl does. Day drinking is a little more redneck than she's willing to display right now.

"We're still staying, right?" Carol asks. Behind her, Lori and Miranda look a little anxious. Beth is with the children, explaining the farm and enrapturing them with tales of horses, chickens, and cows.

"Just a day or two, but yes, for Maggie's sake." She explains the discomfort the man has with guns. Carol and Lori are both armed, but Lori takes both their guns to the Expedition and puts them in the console. For all her initial protest about the women learning and carrying at the horse farm, Quinn has to hide a smile when Lori's hand rubs at her hip where her holster was.

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Lori asks. Quinn thinks it's genuine concern, not the falsity she displays more often than not. She wonders, sometimes, how much of Lori's interactions with the world are couched in 'because you're supposed to'.

"Most likely." Because there are never any guarantees, and for all the impression of tempered steel she gets from the girl, Quinn doesn't truly know her. She's been a peer counselor long enough to know sometimes stronger people break and the fragile ones rebuild their psyche and defy the odds.

"Can I take the kids to see the horses?" Beth asks. "The stable is just right there."

Quinn notes the building's location and that she can see anything approach and agrees. Jimmy hasn't returned since he took the mare there, so she assumes he's brushing the faithful animal down. "Y'all best do as Miss Beth says."

Five little heads nod enthusiastically, and in the end, Miranda goes with them, expressing curiosity about what a stable is really like.

Otis is nowhere in sight, but she imagines the man has his hands full with chores on a place this size.

Quinn takes a seat on the steps, fiddling with the cuff of her shirt sleeve. Carol sits beside her, while Lori leans on the end of the side railing.

"It's too open, isn't it?" Lori says. "My skin almost crawls."

The horse farm was wide open like this, but there they had the protection of the massive stable. Here, Quinn agrees with the uneasy feeling gripping the skinny woman. 

"I think it's the feeling they haven't changed a thing or done anything to protect themselves."

Carol frowns, looking around slowly. Quinn can see the wheels turning like she's been training with Daryl and Merle. "A large enough herd would even swarm the house, right?"

"Easily. All the glass in an old farmhouse like this is great for sunlight, dangerous for any defense. Hopefully, their luck will hold and Dr. Greene will listen."

"And if he doesn't?" Lori asks, rubbing at her arms as if she's cold.

"Then we leave them to their own choices. I know there are two kids here, but we can't make them abandon their home if they don't see the danger."

The possibility of assimilating the farm residents appeals, because even as a vet, Hershel is far more experienced than Quinn can ever hope to be. She just doesn't know if Maggie's attack will be enough to tip the scales into the new reality for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinn's POV might show up here and there, but Shane will remain the primary. The bonus here is getting a little more of Quinn's complex background...
> 
> There's no way Shane would leave the interrogation to anyone else. That scene I won't actually write, since everyone can imagine how it would go with Shane actively in charge and with Dixon backup.


	13. Delusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dixons' dog discovers the walker-infested barn, prompting Quinn and Shane to reject the offer of hospitality on the Greene Farm.

** July 20, 2010 **

Shane’s first indication that something is very wrong at the Greene Farm is when Xander, set free of the confines of Daryl’s old Ford by Micah, loses his damned doggie mind.

The big black German Shepherd, who normally is an affectionate animal, circles the intended campsite a few times, fur bristling. Then he begins herding the children with nips and barks toward vehicles, growling and circling between them and the buildings of the Greene Farm itself, not the woods.

“What the hell is wrong with the dog?” Andrea asks, pausing in unloading a tent from one of the trailer roofs. 

She’s just voicing what all the adults are thinking. Combined with Quinn’s quiet request that no one go armed except the officers and herself, everyone’s already a little on edge. They haven’t even had time to give Quinn and the other women the information they gleaned from their captives.

To their credit, all of the children have allowed the dog to push them toward the vehicles, climbing into Daryl’s truck while the dog continues to growl and whine, pacing and shaking his head. Only Jesse and Micah seem to have escaped the dog’s oversight.

“Something’s setting him off,” Micah says. The teenager kneels by his dog, who continues to whine, petting him for a minute. “Xander, seek.”

The command releases some of the uneasy tension in the dog. He sets off across the farm, his search reminding Shane of the one K-9 they had in King County as he tracks whatever has set off his canine senses. He reaches the barn and goes into the alert stance Shane remembers from the night of the quarry attack, tapping one paw and growling. Something moves, hard, against the chained doors.

“Get your guns back out,” Shane orders. Only Dale, up on the RV, is armed aside from him and Rick, although all of the Dixons have bows or crossbows. “Guard the kids. Rick, Daryl? Follow me and Micah.”

By the time Shane, Rick, Daryl, and Micah reach the dog’s side, there’s no mistaking what the dog smells. Even their human noses can smell the unearthly stench of rotting walkers. The growls and rattling doors only confirm their suspicions.

“Who chains up walkers in a goddamned barn?” Daryl looks as wary and sickened as Shane feels when he speaks.

“Get away from that barn! You don’t have permission to be there!”

They all four turn to see the elderly veterinarian making his way across the farmyard, his hired hand and the teenage boy behind him. When he appears, Quinn hops off the protective stance she’s taken using her Expedition as high ground and jogs to intercept.

“You let our kids play within full sight of a barn full of walkers. Pretty damned sure that’s information you should have conveyed before they ever left a vehicle,” Shane replies when the man’s in earshot.

Quinn’s glare would make most men’s balls exit the planet, but Hershel Greene stands strong even as the man and boy behind him visibly flinch. “Shane’s right. You have cannibals chained in a barn, and those children were unprotected because you asked my people not to go armed on your property.”

“They are sick people, and they’re locked securely in the barn. They’re only sick, and we have to keep them safe until there’s a cure.”

“Dr. Greene, I was pretty sure when you had a girl making supply runs all by herself that you weren’t in touch with the outside world,” Quinn interrupts. “But now I know you don’t have the first clue what’s going on off this farm if you think there’s a cure coming for that.”

“This is my land and that’s my choice to make.”

Quinn looks to Shane and he shrugs. “We don’t need to be here, Quinn. Only came because you wanted to look out for the girl that got attacked.”

“Micah? Daryl? Take Xander and go tell everyone to load back up. If we get back on the road, we can be back on our planned route by nightfall.”

The two male Dixons give a jerky nod, with Micah commanding Xander to heel. With his people alert to what the dog was scenting, the German Shepherd trots off at his owner’s side without hesitation.

“Thank your daughter for entertaining the children this afternoon, Dr. Greene.” Quinn’s pale green gaze studies the locked door and the glimpses of decaying bodies within. “I hope that the group that attacked Maggie doesn’t find your farm, but you shouldn’t send her into town alone anymore.”

Shane’s not sure which this naive man’s family will fall prey to first - the walkers or the bandits.

“We’ve been just fine so far. It is not your place to lecture me.”

Quinn snorts and Shane doesn’t think he’s ever seen her expression turn so forbiddingly arctic. “Here I thought you had some care for your daughter’s safety earlier. I suppose I was mistaken. Shane? How big is that group again?”

“Bastards that attacked the girl say near thirty,” Shane replies, remembering Quinn’s quiet caution when they arrived that the captives died of injuries sustained during the attack regardless of how they actually ended. He understands her warning now that he’s meeting Hershel Greene. “And she’s not the first female they’ve attacked. Lucky ones die where they’re found. Unlucky ones? They make it back to the camp.”

Hershel’s near gaping at the assessment. Otis and Jimmy look outright ill. Even Jimmy isn’t young and innocent enough to not glean why that’s unlucky for the women.

“Place like this is gonna be a target for bandits. Food, water, shelter…” Quinn’s eyes flick toward the porch, where Beth and Patricia are hovering. “Do them a favor and make sure they don’t outlive you if those men find you here. Kindest thing you can do is put a bullet in their brains.”

She turns on her heel, heading toward their caravan, which is already active with sorting everyone back into vehicles. Shane and Rick follow, not needing any further conversation with the obviously delusional old man, who doesn’t seem able to formulate a reply anyway.

“Wait!”

Shane’s reached Quinn’s side when Maggie’s voice carries to them. She’s limping across the farmyard toward their vehicles, one arm pressed tightly to her side where Quinn earlier assessed she probably has broken ribs.

Quinn turns, waiting on the young woman, who looks near frantic to reach her. His co-leader looks genuinely regretful.

“Please don’t let Daddy push you into leaving.”

“He isn’t pushing for us to leave, Maggie, but I cannot stay anywhere that actively endangers the children in our group. We sleep in tents. Any part of that barn fails and we’re as good as dead.”

The brunette nods, looking near tears. The bruising from the earlier attack is blooming across her pale skin. “I understand that. But the men? They weren’t alone. I know that much from what they said to me.” Terror shakes her frame, even as she tries to stand strong, making Maggie’s voice waiver.

Quinn’s expression shifts to that sly expression she wore right before she swept her shirt off with Lori barging into Shane’s sleeping area back at the last camp. “I don’t think any of my group intends to leave those men roaming the area, Maggie. It would have been easier, to leave the children and those still training here while we hunt, but this isn’t the only farm in the area.”

Comprehension dawns on Maggie’s face, and her expression twists to something vicious. “Good.” She looks over her shoulder, but her father hasn’t made any attempt to approach the group. “Back at the highway, turn west. Pass the first driveway on the right, but take the second. That’s the Cooper farm, and they’re all dead and gone. I’ve been raiding their fields and orchards off and on.”

Shane suppresses the smirk that threatens when he realizes Maggie wants them close enough she can reach them. Hershel Green may be living in a dream world of a future cure where rapists don’t roam the land like they own it, but his daughter has no such rose colored glasses about the outside world.

“Sounds like a decent enough base.” Everyone’s loaded up and waiting on Quinn and Shane now.

“I’ll check in tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

“If you feel up to riding by then. But Maggie? You need to be armed with more than that baseball bat you had on the horse’s saddle. Do you know how to shoot?” When Maggie nods, Quinn turns to Shane. “You’ve done our inventory. What can we spare?”

Shane considers the various pieces they’ve picked up from raiding houses or vehicles. “The most spare ammo we have is 9mm, so we can leave her a Glock and a few boxes down in the mailbox. You familiar with the Glocks?”

Maggie nods. “The shooting range up near my college had them.”

“Carry a knife of some sort too, if you can. Two or three is even better,” Shane tells her. “Pocket, belt, and boot. Hell, if you can find one small enough, tuck it in your damned bra if you have to.”

“I can find those. Knives don’t give Daddy the willies like guns.”

Quinn accepts the impulsive hug the young woman gives her. Shane heads for his waiting Humvee, while Quinn aims for the ambulance, its bright coloring already obscured by cans of paint liberated from the hardware store in town before they ventured out to the farm on Quinn’s summons. He leads their caravan down the long and winding driveway.

Maggie’s directions are sound, and they pull into another farm with trees forming the border at one distance or another in all directions. But where the Greene Farm had a few buildings, pastures full of cattle, and a small garden meant to support a single family, the Cooper Farm is at least eighty acres of neglected cropland and orchards. Shane doesn’t care much for the broken lines of sight created by the treelines between some of the fields, but at least the lack of large and noisy farm animals should keep the walker attractants low.

The farmhouse is smaller than the one on the Greene Farm, but they clear it anyway. Generator out back is propane, which gives them some access to bathing facilities for a little while. The sheds and small barn yield no hidden dangers, although there are actually still chickens using the coop despite the gate being wide open. He guesses home is home, even if people aren’t around to take their eggs or give them feed anymore.

They park all the vehicles for ease of leaving in a hurry, but Merle’s grin is a bit grim when he backs the troop carrier Humvee up close to the porch. “We can let the kids sleep in a bit more comfort, but keep their getaway vehicle right nearby. Gonna make sure the mamas all know how to get it started and drive it, while we’re here.”

Shane nods, understanding the plan. With three bedrooms inside, they can let the kids sleep under fans and indoors for a few nights. There’s a storm shelter out back, too, which is another line of defense against anything more intelligent than walkers coming up on the farm.

“That is a lot of food going to waste,” Glenn mutters, staring out at the fields. He’s quieter than Shane likes, and he promised himself back when they interrogated the bastards in town to keep an eye on the kid. Wanting to be part of something like that is one thing. The reality of the questioning is likely to give the Korean nightmares now that it’s done. At least the blood’s not actively on Glenn’s hands, and Shane made the Dixon boys, Morales, and Dale stand as guards.

“Why don’t you pull together a team and see what can be salvaged?” Shane suggests. “I’m pretty sure the Dixon kids and Carol have a general idea about gardens. Might ask the others.”

“We aren’t going back out today?” Glenn asks, sounding anxious. “What if that group moves?”

“It’s possible they might, but the assholes seemed pretty thrilled with the fact that they were bright enough to take over a furniture store. Doubt they’ll give up beds for the unknown if they don’t have to, and the men not returning isn’t an instant red flag that they ran into people. I imagine they have losses to walkers, too.”

Tomorrow’s plenty of time to start assessing the group holed up in Senoia and figuring out the best way to take them down with the least risk to their own people.

“Gonna go hunting,” Daryl announces as he and Quinn approach Shane. “Taking Micah and Jesse both. Leaving the dog for the kids.”

“Sounds good.” Shane’s figured out by now that at least half of Daryl’s hunting trips are as much scouting as actually looking for fresh meat for the group.

“Daryl? Take Carol too. She could use the experience tracking in a new place.” 

Shane thinks the hunter may refuse Quinn’s request at first. His nerves are probably as on edge as Shane’s own, after the interrogation. But he jerks his head in a nod and goes off to collect his hunting party. 

Quinn sighs as she watches the tenseness in the man’s shoulders. “He doesn’t like it, but she can’t be sheltered, and if she catches on that he’s trying, she’ll have his balls. Let’s take a walk while you fill me in on what you got out of the assholes.”

It really isn’t a lot to tell, but Shane stays silent until they’re halfway to the peach orchard. Even this far away, he can smell the sickly sweet odor of rotten fruit. He figures animals are taking their share, but an orchard on this scale isn’t one scavengers can completely finish off. There should be plenty to treat their own people, because the branches are still heavy with fruit, too.

“What are we looking at?” Quinn asks, voice as serious as he’s ever heard her.

“Close to thirty, like I told the old man. Bit of a mix of those who already crossed the law before the fall and those who decided they were willing to afterward. No captives in camp right now, which is why they were so excited to happen upon Maggie.” Shane shudders. The man with the head injury was either already a sociopath, or the bat shook loose the last of his humanity. He was fucking happy to brag. “They seemed to be far enough down the totem pole to not follow orders and bring her back to camp first.”

He lets Quinn draw her own conclusions on that. She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “Guess we all got lucky to get the damned peons and not the smarter ones. Maggie might not have gotten the chance to scream if they just took her captive.”

“Gotta take the small favors when they come,” Shane mutters. “They’re holed up at a furniture store in Senoia. Leader seems to get his kicks outta sleeping on expensive beds while they strip the town of resources.”

“Those two scouting the next town?”

“More or less, although they seem to be heading steady north like goddamned locusts. Might not ever find the old man’s farm, but we can’t take a chance they’ll drift west towards us either.” Especially with their growing certainty that Fort Benning is gone. “They send out groups of two to six to look for supplies or targets. They didn’t think Sharpsburg was viable, so they just sent the pair of idiots.”

“What did you do with the bodies?”

“Tossed the bodies into a tow truck impound yard with a few trapped walkers so their buddies figure the bastards died by their own stupidity. Hate leaving the walkers alive, even trapped like that, but for now, we need the smokescreen. It’s on the other side of town from where they attacked Maggie, and we parked their truck over there too.”

Quinn laughs softly. “Probably a good thing you stayed on the correct side of the law, deputy, with that much thought to setting the scene.”

The unexpected levity lifts Shane’s own mood a little. “Can’t take all the credit. I’m gonna estimate back in Merle’s law breaking days, they didn’t catch him at everything he got up to.”

“I will avoid incriminating a family member,” she replies lightly. They’ve reached the peach trees, and she reaches up to drag a branch down and inspect the fruit. “Who do you want to take out for scouting tomorrow?”

Shane plucks a peach and gingerly bites into it, taking a larger bite when it proves not to be overripe. He thinks over his selection criteria. “You staying to head up camp?” She nods. “Daryl, Merle, Glenn, Jacqui, and Andrea for scouting. Leaves you some decent shots and good muscle if needed at camp, and the ones who might object to thinning numbers if we can.”

“That include Rick?” she asks. She has her shirt untucked, inspecting peaches and piling them in her shirt tail.

“Yeah. He didn’t leave when we interrogated, but you can tell he has doubts the whole group is bad. Maybe not as strong as Dale, but definitely not a hesitation I want out in the field. He’s better here, where he’s defense and not offense.”

“And Glenn? You think he’s going to cope with that?”

Quinn’s fondness for the young man is only slightly less than her own family members, so he understands why she asks about him, and not the women.

“I think he’s capable, yeah. Probably more than Rick or Andrea.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Kid’s got sisters, back home in Michigan. It’s probably damned personal for him to want the world to have fewer monsters that prey on women. You’ll keep an eye on him?”

“Of course.” He’ll keep the kid as his own partner, pairing the two women between the Dixon men.

“We’ll harvest what can be transported easily, while your group is out. Meet with Maggie tomorrow and find out just how far off his rocker her daddy is.”

“I’m betting somebody in that barn is related to him.” Shane is almost completely certain of that theory.

“Maybe more than one. Didn’t introduce a wife. I wish I asked Maggie a bit more about her family on the ride over there.”

“We gonna offer for any of them to go with us regardless of the old man’s delusions?”

“I don’t want to turn any of them down.”

He sighs, flipping his own shirt out to let her pile peaches into it too. “Then we don’t. If they feel they have to leave him behind to be safe, we take them with us.”

That settled, they both head back toward the rest of the group busily making camp on the abandoned farm. It would be easy, in a way, to leave the Greenes to fend for themselves once their group eliminates the bandits, but there’s still too much of the cop in him to think of those youngsters being left to die for the patriarch’s delusions.

Hopefully, the girls are smarter than their father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to take a screen viewing/writing break after the grandson (otherwise known as Tazbaby) jabbed me in the eyeball and scratched it up. Grammy got to rock the eyepatch pirate look for a few days. :)
> 
> The problem with a dog in the camp is that there's no way the barn stays hidden from his senses. Took me a while to decide how I wanted to handle it, but without a wounded kid and pregnant woman, no one is going to push to stay. I never understood why Rick fixated on the Greene Farm, with Hershel's quirks and ownership in the way, when there were probably a couple dozen farms in the area equally useful and maybe even with actual fence.
> 
> But I also can't see them just skedaddling to their goal and leaving rapists on the loose.
> 
> Sadly, the Cooper Farm isn't well fenced either, since people don't tend to spend money on sturdy fencing for crops that can't escape, so no one's going to see it as an alternative to the island in the lake they're still heading for eventually.
> 
> I haven't forgotten Morgan and Duane either. :) 
> 
> Oh, and for the record, this is not a Judith as Shane’s daughter storyline. I wanted to do ONE that let her be an actual Grimes. :)


	14. Fates are Sealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane is party to a secret plan to eliminate the bandit group in a way most of the group won't approve of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be a dark chapter, so feel free to read the end summary beforehand.

**July 21, 2010**

Shane watches dispassionately as the body of the fourth bandit is tossed off the roof of the sheriff's department into the fenced area teeming with about two dozen walkers. They know what happened to a portion of this county's law enforcement, because four of the ravenous dead below wear their uniforms still.

The area shows signs of being set up as a refugee camp of sorts. Tattered and collapsed tents line the far side of the chain linked area. The walkers are a mix of civilian and first responder. Shane shivers at the sight of one smaller walker, no older than Carl.

"Think they would appreciate being used like this?" Merle drawls beside him as the older man cleans his hands with a wet wipe.

"Personally, I would prefer to be put down. But if I was already roaming, I don't think I would mind still dispensing justice."

"Real justice would be tossing the bastards down there still alive."

"True, but we're not that far removed from cruel and unusual, are we?"

Merle sighs and shakes his head, spitting over the edge of the roof. He's quiet for a minute as Daryl and Andrea leave the roof to help gather supplies. Jacqui and Glenn were left below after the interrogation, content to strip the sheriff's building of anything they can use.

"Can't let them catch onto us just yet. Can't believe they talked so easily with women doing the questioning."

Shane nods, still watching to note that the walkers are certainly covering the tracks of those hunting the bandits. You would never know the men died before they hit the ground now.

"Andrea did say she was a lawyer before, and Jacqui's damned smart."

They spotted the group leaving the furniture store and followed, easily kicking in to the plan to pick them off in small groups if needed. The four men headed north, never noticing they were being tailed. Taking them down was easy once they bashed their way into a food bank building down the street from the sheriff's department. Dragging them to the holding cells in the building's basement just seemed best for keeping the interrogation hidden.

Rick's conscience should set easy after these four deaths, too, once Shane tells the folks back at camp. Two of the four were monstrous enough to need little coaxing to confess their guilt. Andrea interrogated them anyway for what Shane thinks is the opportunity to visit well-deserved pain upon them. She needed little guidance from Merle on the pain points to press knife and baton.

The other two broke eventually, the youngest weeping pitifully, but unable to keep a sickening admiration out of his voice as he described the group's predatory nature. Even if the young man, no older than Glenn, didn't actually participate in the rapes and murders of teenage girls, it was only a lack of opportunity.

"Least we got more detailed information," he says.

"Twenty-four men is still a lot to hunt down." Merle looks thoughtful as he watches the carnage below. "How far are you willing to go?"

While Merle's toned down the asshole redneck a bit now that there are no divisions within the group, Shane's opinions are colored by quiet stories shared by Quinn under the guise of their continued 'relationship'. The man will never be truly stable, not in the way society expects him to be. There's been too much trauma, physical and otherwise, compounded by past self-medication.

But there are shifts like today, where Shane sees the Marine looking back, and wonders if the man's mind first shattered in his abusive childhood or under the duties asked of him while wearing military rank. He knows whatever suggestion is coming will not be considered humane.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no honor to it. No individual questioning of guilt or innocence. Even a risk they've brought in an innocent we don't know about." Merle doesn't turn away, expression intent on Shane's. "Take out their guards and block the exits. Building they're in is old and the windows boarded up. It'll go up like pine kindling."

Shane feels sweat trickle down his spine in the late July heat, but he doesn't feel the heat now. It feels like he's been doused in ice water instead.

"You're suggesting we burn them alive."

"Easiest way to take down those numbers and not risk our own people."

Shane takes a deep breath. They've held onto a sense of justice by questioning all these men before killing them. What Merle proposes crosses that line. But they aren't intending to let any of the men go free, and the bastards certainly tortured their victims.

It's simpler for Merle, Shane thinks. His view of the world is wrapped in us versus them. The group is lucky that Merle's shifted his definition of 'us' to include everyone now, not just his own family and the children of the rest.

"If Quinn agrees."

Merle's smile is grim, even as he reaches for the water bottle from his pack. "She will."

Shane doesn't doubt it. She's been on edge since they saved Maggie. Staying behind today is as much about keeping a close eye on the more innocent women and girls of their group as it is splitting their leadership up in case of a problem.

"Might as well get back to the farm. No sense alerting anyone we exist," Shane says at last.

Merle crumples his now empty water bottle and tosses it into the crowd below, bouncing it off the head of a male walker in a once expensive suit. Whether he was a refugee or detective, who knows? The virus is a leveling field like no other.

"Might as well." The burly man heads for the roof access door, leaving Shane to his thoughts.

If they do this, he's not sure they can be honest with the group. Many aren't yet to the place where they could cope with a preemptive strike, especially one that will deliver an especially horrific death. He won't take Glenn. The kid's lost enough innocence as it is.

Merle's suggestion is logical, even if diabolical. It could even be done with a very small group of people. That thought shifts him into hesitant agreement. If they shelter as many as possible from their plan, the fire can be seen as a horrific visitation of karma.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he sighs deeply and goes to rejoin his group. Quinn will help him analyze it and see if it's just that one step too far.

The drive back isn't a long one, although courtesy of the maps at the sheriff's department of surrounding counties, they can now take circuitous routes they might not dare with just a state map. There's never a sign of being tailed. The only movement is the occasional walker and loose livestock.

When they pull in at the farm, the others pile out of the Expedition with eagerness to check on those they're closest to, carrying bags of supplies. Shane takes a minute, sitting behind the wheel, noting the champagne colored Mercury Sable he saw on the Greene Farm is here. At least Maggie didn't try to ride.

Merle taps at the driver window, making Shane jump. From the smirk, he meant to startle. Instead of rolling down the window, Shane pockets the keys to return to Quinn and opens the door.

"Listen, Walsh. What I suggested? It don't have to involve you. Could be done with two or three men, and give you plausible deniability with your family. Me, Daryl, and Morales can take care of it."

Merle's offering him a technicality to avoid getting his hands dirtier, but Shane won't take it. He can't ask others to cross lines he won't, and he suspects hiding from it now will only make it worse later when he does have to redraw the lines between good and evil. That day is coming, he feels it in his bones. There are no jails to house the wicked anymore.

"No, if we do this, I'm part of it. Why Morales?"

"He's ex-military, so he's trained to understand the necessity. He served in the desert, and you don't come back clean from that. Plus he's got a daughter."

Shane looks to where the Latino is sitting on the porch steps, Eliza next to him with a book she seems to be reading aloud from. The man's military background is part of why Shane left him behind today, but he hadn't considered what the desert military service would mean for the limits the man might have.

"Alright. Let me talk to Quinn."

Shane shuts the door and matches pace with Merle. Despite the heavy bag of salvaged ammunition from the sheriff's department, the man moves like he's much younger than the near fifty he is. Merle splits off near the big cargo truck, obviously going to sort out the ammo, while Shane continues on to where he can see Quinn and Maggie sitting on a couple of old stumps near the border between farmyard and crop field.

Beyond them, he's a little surprised to see the teenagers from the Greene Farm. Both are working diligently in the field to gather food alongside a half-dozen of Shane's own people. Quinn has a basket of field peas beside her and a huge plastic bowl in her lap, shelling the peas methodically as she speaks to Maggie.

Maggie is crying, so he hesitates to approach, but his halt in progress actually calls both women's attention to him.

"Come update us on what you found today," Quinn calls out. Maggie scrubs at her face with the tail of the plaid overshirt she's wearing over a white tank top and manages something close to a smile when he nods her way. 

He sits cross-legged on the ground beside Quinn's basket, gathering his thoughts. "We caught four more. Confirmed their numbers and location."

Quinn deftly slides a thumb along a pea pod, ejecting the contents into the bowl. They're crowder peas, he notes idly before stealing a pod and popping it open to snack on the peas inside. He isn't sure he should bring up Merle's suggestion in front of Maggie.

"You look uneasy. More than the first two said?" Quinn asks.

"No. There's only about two dozen left, but Merle had a suggestion to reduce risk to our people."

Quinn hums softly, letting that settle in and looking between him and Maggie. "I'm guessing from the guilty expression you're wearing that it involves something gruesome."

Since Maggie seems even more intent at those words, Shane sighs. "He thinks we should take out the guards in the night and bar the doors. Set the place on fire."

The farm girl's expression turns darkly triumphant. "That's perfect."

It takes Quinn longer to answer. She's gazing off in the distance, fingers still busy. "I'll bow to his analysis of the strategy being possible. The group won't support it."

"It's what they deserve," Maggie objects, voice heated.

Quinn refocuses on the young woman, expression stern. "I didn't say we wouldn't do it "

Maggie's righteous anger deflates. "Sorry."

The apology is waved off. Quinn looks to Shane. "You aren't arguing against it, so I assume you just want my approval?"

He nods, taking another pea pod and playing with it more than eating the contents. The slickness of the peas distracts him from the fact that he's planning a slaughter. "Merle thinks we should use a small group. Me, Daryl, Morales, and him."

"That could work. Miranda will notice her husband leave, but she's pragmatic and won't oppose it. Same for Carol. I'll adjust the watch roster to put Andrea on your watch shift. I think she can handle knowing but not knowing, too. Take my truck and be back before dawn watch."

Shane suspects T-Dog's also capable of not inquiring further, but he understands the protection Quinn extends to the man's conscience. Adapting too fast could break the sweeter natured among them. After today, he knows Andrea won't break.

Just like that, the fates of twenty-four men turned monsters are sealed.

Later, as the night shifts toward day instead of dark, Shane strips off all his smoke scented clothing, pushing it away and as close to the exit as possible. He can still hear the screaming of the trapped men like an echo, and if he closes his eyes, he can see the flames.

The two guards were no trouble at all, half drunk and inattentive. Knocked unconscious, they were left inside the doors Shane and Daryl jammed shut. Morales and Merle used the water tank on a truck from the fire department to soak the ground around the furniture store so the flames didn't spread. 

The four of them watched the building burn from a nearby roof for two hours, with Daryl and Merle picking off walkers attracted to the noise with crossbows. Once no more dead seemed to converge so it was safe ro be on the ground, they doused the embers with the remainder of the truck's tank.

The screams stopped long before the flames did. The phantom smell of burnt flesh and kerosene makes his stomach roil.

Shane stumbles out of his tent, not caring that he's clad only in boxer briefs. He makes it to the draped area designed as the latrine before he retches painfully.

There's a gentle hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing softly. When he can raise his head, Quinn's expression is compassionate. "Rinse." 

He takes the bottle of mouthwash and does as directed, feeling the harsh burn of Listerine remove the lingering taste of sour in his mouth.

"Let's get you back to bed."

Her arm around his waist is a damned lifeline, warm skin against his. Shane lets himself be guided onto the air mattress that replaced the one he lost at the quarry. It's a single, normally barely wide enough for his shoulders as he sleeps on his back. But tonight, he's manipulated onto his side, with Quinn folding herself against him. The soft cotton of her pajama pants against his bare legs is soothing 

She presses a kiss against his forehead. It's as sweet and platonic as all of their interactions have been, despite most of the camp thinking they're lovers. He suspects Merle knows differently. There's nothing about Quinn the older man doesn't catch.

"Don't want to sleep," he mumbles against her shoulder. "Need to, though."

Quinn's fingers comb through his hair. "I'll be here. Sleep."

The scent of her perfume drives away the phantom scents. She hums quietly, a song he vaguely recognizes as a hymn from a long ago childhood spent next to his grandmother in church.

The combination of touch and scent and sound eases his mind and settles him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone needing a summary: After capturing and interrogating four more of the bandit group, Merle proposes to Shane that they lock the bandits in and set the building on fire to reduce risk to their people. The plan is carried out without the entire group's knowledge or input.
> 
> Notes:  
> I know I tagged the story as Shane/OC because it was begun as a Rooftop draft. But the more that I write Shane and Quinn together, the more they feel platonic and almost sibling-esque in their interactions.
> 
> I'm pulling the tag for now, with no concrete plans for either of them romantically. It'll come naturally as we progress, hopefully.


	15. A Small Fraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane returns Quinn's protective kindness by consoling Glenn after they confirm the death of all the bandits.

** July 22, 2010 **

It’s full daylight when Shane wakes. He realizes what roused him when he sees Quinn stretching next to the air mattress, limbering up muscles cramped from sleeping on the too-small surface with him. She frees her hair from the silk scarf and massages her scalp, hair a loose cloud of black curls now that it’s free from its braid as well. The flash of color from her tattoos draws his eyes.

He didn’t get a good look at any of them but the chest piece that night in the barn stall. With her clad only in the sports bra she was sleeping in last night, he can see that there’s not a section of exposed back that isn’t covered in ink. Whoever did her work was skilled with working against darker skin, because Shane sees none of the color fading he’s heard people warned against when he got his ink done. There are rich accents of purple, blue, and red, all deeply vivid colors, and the general theme seems to be steampunk.

Quinn notices him looking and smiles. “It is - was - my one indulgence.”

When she turns her back to him and unzips the sports bra to slip it off, he gets a full view of the major piece finally. Metal wings branch from a clockwork mechanism between her shoulder blades, as if surgically implanted. The skin over her spine is tattooed with a mechanical spine, ending in a glowing red gem at the base. A mechanical spider, with gleaming blood red accents on its body, weaves web on the spaces bare of the wings. A line of text curves beneath the gem: _be your own guardian angel_.

The irony is that her wings aren’t angel wings at all. The scraps of deep purple leathery wing over the blue metal mechanics are definitely not traces of feathers.

“It’s an amazing piece,” he says, but his eyes catch minor changes in the flow of the wings that incorporate scarring into the design, just like the work he’s seen on her arms. The animals and insects of her sleeve tattoos are steampunk themed as well, and they flow around scars so skillfully it’s hard to see them.

She smiles over her shoulder as she slips the bra back on. “I’m fond of it, although the spider creeps Merle the hell out.”

Shane snorts, sitting up to start looking for clothes, since he can hear folks moving outside his tent. “Can’t imagine Merle afraid of spiders.”

“He doesn’t like bugs in general.” Quinn tosses him a pair of pants out of his duffel. “Gonna go see what’s up for breakfast. You and Merle will need to take the group out to ‘find’ our task is done here.”

He gets the cargo pants up over his ass and zipped before he stops her. “How soon do we go back on the road?”

Maggie Greene and the two teenagers stayed until supper time yesterday, and Maggie spent a lot of her time with Quinn. Shane can’t imagine his co-leader willingly leaving the battered young woman behind easily.

“We’ll give it another day for Maggie to talk to her father. She says she’s coming with us, one way or another. The question is just how many folks are coming with her.”

He catches the shirt she tosses his way, making a mental note to himself that black is not the best color for the summer heat. “What’s your estimate on that?”

“I think her sister will follow her into hell itself, because Maggie makes her feel safe, and she’s barely coping with Maggie being attacked. The boy will follow Beth. It’s the older three I have no idea about.”

“You really think the old man will stay if his girls leave?”

Quinn sighs, looking sorrowful. “I think that he’s too caught up in grief to choose his living daughters over the dead wife and son. Maggie doesn’t think that Patricia and Otis will leave him behind. I told her we would take another day here to harvest crops and then leave out tomorrow morning, once we confirmed last night’s raid was successful.”

She crosses back from the tent opening and pulls him into a strong hug. “Let the others take the brunt of confirming things today,” she says softly against his shoulder when he returns the embrace.

“Alright.” It’s an easy promise to make. Part of him wants to rebel and face his deeds up close. But there’s a thread of worry in her voice that reminds him of how she speaks of Merle and the knife’s edge he walks. If there’s one less fear she can have today, he can do that much for her.

“Time to go find some clothes. I think that Hello Kitty pajama pants don’t quite fit the dress code for today.” She smiles at him, brushing a gentle kiss across one cheek, before unzipping the tent and disappearing.

He takes his time in finishing getting dressed, deciding to wipe down his skin to avoid any residual smell of smoke, but he can smell the distinctive scent of frying spam permeating the camp. It’s a poor substitute for ham or bacon, but they’ve got to find a place to settle before that sort of thing is a possibility ever again. At least feral pigs are too damned mean for even walkers to ever wipe out their population.

When he emerges into the sunny morning, Shane spots Rick settled near the fire with a bowl already in his hands. His best friend waves him over, so he takes the empty chair and yawns as he rubs at his shoulder, which didn’t care for the night on the twin sized air mattress.

“Late night?” Rick asks, amused. 

For a brief moment, Shane’s mind is back in Senoia, but then reality catches up with him. He just shrugs as he always does when Rick alludes to the relationship between him and Quinn. “I gotta find a bigger air mattress if we’re traveling much longer.”

Rick just laughs, gaze going to where Quinn’s emerging from her own tent, dressed in her usual outfit of jeans and T-shirt. She’s halfway through braiding her hair, talking to Merle where he’s cleaning his Browning outside the trio of Dixon tents.

Lori passes him a bowl of what looks like a breakfast hash of spam, potatoes, and bell peppers. She still doesn’t meet his eyes, so he’s not sure if he’s forgiven for revealing all to Rick yet or not. The couple seem to be settling into an easier relationship than he’s remembering them having for years, so it was the right decision to make. He decides to test the waters, just a bit.

“Hey, Carl? Noticed there’s a good sized pond on the property. You wanna join me and the girls to see if it's got any fish in it after I get back from scouting in town today?”

The slim brunette woman stiffens, but she looks at Carl and the shining, hopeful expression on his face and Shane sees her shoulders relax with an effort. “Sounds like a good plan for the afternoon, Carl,” she says. Shane can even half believe her, and thankfully, Carl doesn’t catch that her tone isn’t quite right.

“Thanks, Mom!” the boy crows. “I’m gonna go tell Harper and Sophia.”

He dashes off to where the girls are playing a card game, obviously waiting on the adults to get the day underway. The excitement of all three kids is damn near contagious, and almost makes him forget what today is going to entail.

“Hopefully, you won’t get hung up on anything out there today,” Rick says.

“Just surveillance, maybe grabbing another group if they venture out.”

He’s drawn into planning for that by Jacqui and Andrea. As Rick settles into quiet conversation with Lori, Shane is deeply grateful that Rick isn’t going to be part of the gruesome discovery today.

That thought haunts him later, worrying over Rick with a law enforcement career behind him, instead of the youngest member of the scouting group. When they head back to the Cooper Farm before lunch, Shane’s keeping a close eye on Glenn. The kid looks torn between haunted and vindicated, fists opening and closing against the worn fabric of his pants.

“You can talk about it, if you need to,” Shane offers. 

Glenn startles like a rabbit, banging his head on the window and rubbing it with a muttered “Ow.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

There’s a deep sigh and the kid shakes his head. “Is it awful of me to hope most of them weren’t drunk or high enough to not know the building was burning?”

“Nah. I think much the same myself.” Difference is, Shane _knows_ a good number of them were aware of the fire. From the house fires they got called in, back as deputies if something seemed suspicious, Shane knows smoke inhalation is what kills many victims in a fire. But it didn’t work quite that way for this group, probably because the building was a commercial one with high ceilings.

“Good.” The echo of Maggie’s vindictiveness would make Shane smile, if the subject were something other than barbequed bandits.

“Think we’ll take a day or two to rest,” he tells Glenn. “Quinn says Maggie is trying to get her whole family to come with us, and she wants to give the girl time to talk her daddy into it.”

“I’m glad. She and her sister seem nice.”

“Just nice?” Shane asks, deciding that teasing the hell out of Glenn is preferable to where either of their minds have been wandering. “Nice is how you describe your sister, kid.”

He barely withholds the laughter when Glenn can’t decide whether to gape or glare at him. 

“Beth’s real young,” is what he manages at last. 

Shane doesn’t push him on his opinion of Maggie, because he thinks if he were Glenn’s age, thinking of Maggie as anything other than ‘nice’ would make him feel like the world’s biggest sleazeball. The poor girl’s skin is a patchwork of blues, blacks, and purples from her battle with the two assholes who attacked her.

“How old are you actually?” Shane asks instead. His best guess is somewhere between sixteen and twenty. He has an enthusiasm to his personality that Shane associates with youth more than the slow cynicism the twenties bring to a man’s experience.

“I turned twenty-two in May.”

It’s close enough to what Shane estimated, he supposes. “I guess Beth is real young then.” He waits for a heartbeat, controlling his grin. “Amy’s not, though.”

It gets him a wide-eyed look. “Andrea would neuter me if I looked at her sister like that.”

Shane does laugh now, chuckling as he turns down the long driveway to the Cooper Farm. “Amy might have something to say about that, and I’m pretty sure Quinn would slap it down hard. You’re pretty well adopted there, Glenn.”

The kid stares out the window for long enough Shane thinks he’s just going to let the subject drop. “You really think that? About Quinn, I mean.”

“I’ll put it this way, Glenn. Any of these trips out we’ve been going on without Quinn? Anything happens to you, my ass is grass when I try to tell that woman I lost one of her kids.”

“Really?” He sounds lost and _so fucking young_ when he speaks.

“Yeah, really. Just cos she ain’t tying you to some apron strings doesn’t mean Quinn doesn’t love you like her own.” Hell, even Harper is pushed to careful independence, even if she’s a little more protected due to being only eleven. Knowing what he knows of Quinn’s childhood, he supposes it’s the only way she knows, to give her kids all the tools she can toward surviving, with or without her.

Shane ignores the silent tears that get away from Glenn at his words, letting the kid look out the window in silence the last little bit until they park. It doesn’t surprise him at all when the Korean is out of the truck before Shane’s got it in park, running across the yard to fling his arms around a surprised Quinn in a hug strong enough he sees her feet lift from the ground.

She’s smiling brightly when she meets Shane’s eyes, if a little confused by the sudden affection. He just smiles back, feeling that his nudge toward Glenn to make him realize his place in Quinn’s life might repay a small fraction of what Quinn’s done for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Quinn isn't technically old enough to be Glenn's mom, I don't see that as anything that would stop her from appropriating him into her family.
> 
> I could not find any photos of a back tattoo that really describes what I envision Quinn having, but if you want to peek through steampunk tattoos, you'll get a general idea of what kind of ink she has. Shane still hasn't seen it all (and probably won't, since their relationship isn't a romantic one). But man, there are some gorgeously detailed tats in steampunk categories.
> 
> Gonna be real honest that this isn't going to be a Glenn and Maggie story, just folks know early on.
> 
> Next chapter will reveal how many of the Greene Farm residents head west with our travelers...


	16. In No Hurry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to the lake camp, Shane ends up in a conversation that worries him about Quinn's son.

**July 24, 2010**

Getting back on the road is more than a little bittersweet for some of their group. When Maggie arrived the night before, she only had Beth and Jimmy with her. The blonde was shivering and miserable, but she took her bag into Quinn's tent with a quiet nod. Jimmy and Maggie joined the quietened circle around the fire, where Maggie confirmed what she predicted.

Hershel Greene remains convinced there's hope for the walkers in his barn. Otis won't leave the man behind, and Patricia won't leave her husband.

Quinn passes him a cup of coffee as they watch final checks being made on packing everything away in the morning sun. "You think Jimmy is up for driving?"

Shane looks to where the kid looks a little overwhelmed by Beth's sorrow. She's in the back seat of Maggie's car, just leaning listlessly against the window. Maggie's unable to drive due to the broken collarbone, and no one expects Beth to drive. "I think maybe he doesn't need both Greene girls to worry about."

"I suspect you might be right." She steals a drink of Shane's coffee. "Girl needs a distraction. Gonna go see if Beth feels like helping me out and keeping Harper entertained today."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Shane watches her work her magic on the forlorn teenager. Jimmy looks relieved when Beth follows Quinn to the ambulance. Harper looks excited, and it's infectious, because Beth's smiling at last.

He crushes the styrofoam cup and tosses it in the barrel they left all their trash in. Old habits of tidying up die hard, he supposes. He hears the rumble of the Triumph starting up, which signals everyone to scamper for their designated vehicles. Starting up the Humvee that's ended up his designated vehicle for the moment, he's doing the radio check when his passenger door opens.

Jesse drops a backpack into the floorboard and slides his crossbow into the back. He tugs off his denim jacket and drops it on top of his pack before plopping into the seat. "Sophia wanted to ride with Daryl today."

That doesn't explain why Jesse would need to ride elsewhere, since the other Humvee is a troop carrier that van seat eight in the back. Or why the teenager would bypass riding with his mother, Carol, or Glenn. It makes Shane aware that despite his seeming relationship with Quinn and the time he's spent with Harper, he doesn't think he's spoken more than a dozen words with either of the boys.

It's not avoiding them. Both boys tend to naturally gravitate toward what Amy jokingly calls their 'designated Dixon'. While Merle and Micah still spend about half their time together in camp, the older teen has been branching out since they've been on the road. Jesse hasn't, tending to keep to himself when he's not with Daryl, his mother, or his sister, usually reading or some isolated camp task.

Shane's noticed in the past that Jesse resembles Quinn about as heavily as possible for a male to resemble a female relative. Up close, it's even more apparent, although he realizes now that the darker bronze of the boy's complexion isn't solely due to sun exposure without the battered old denim jacket that is practically Jesse's second skin. The shock of bright blue curls obscures most of the left side of his face as he fishes a battered paperback out of his pack and opens it.

Radio checks finished, Shane pulls out behind Merle, set to lead the caravan behind the bike as usual. They've got a clear route planned to Hogansville because Maggie and Jimmy had made a run that far to try to find the boy's grown sister. Hershel Greene hadn't particularly wanted to keep Beth's teenage boyfriend under his roof permanently, but with Jimmy's sister dead or missing, he at least did right by the boy.

Since the teen seems to settle in to read, Shane's a little surprised when he speaks, keeping his eyes on the book. "So, has Merle given you an appropriate shovel talk yet?"

It makes Shane laugh, because Jesse sounds amused. He looks up from his book when he hears the laughter and grins at Shane.

"No, I can't say he has." In fact, none of the Dixons have made any mention of the supposed relationship. Shane isn't sure if that's because they know it's a sham or just don't get involved.

"Micah thought I should try it, give it the 'are you gonna be my stepdad' spin. He spends too much time with Merle." 

Jesse pushes his hair back as he turns to look at Shane, which makes him notice for the first time that the kid has a double eyebrow piercing, set in a T. He also catches a flash of metal in Jesse's ear, but nothing definitive. The eyebrow barbells are accentuated when he arches the brow in question, making the cobalt blue of the barbell ends stand out.

"I think we can probably pass on that particular conversation." It's not an open admission of the relationship not being a permanent one, but close enough.

"Yeah. Figured y'all are just putting on a show because of Rick." He closes his book, turning enough in his seat to watch Shane drive. "Have you figured out why Mom's just playing around?"

Shane shakes his head. He honestly hasn't asked why Quinn was willing to provide a cover to let things blow over with Rick and Lori. He's just been grateful that's all that's between them, because he loves the affection she shares easily and his head is not in a good place for more.

"You're a little too masculine for her taste."

Jesse smirks, reminding him of Merle for the first time. It makes the penny drop faster.

"Oh." Shane can't help but smile at the kid's amusement. "This your shovel talk by letting me know you don't even need the shovel?"

"A little bit." He lets his smile fade. "Harper really likes you though. She really misses Adam. They were buddies almost from the time he partnered with Mom."

Shane remembers the conversation on the RV after the camp attack and Quinn's sorrow regarding her paramedic partner. He's well aware that EMS personnel often form bonds with partners as strong as cops, from so many shared high stress experiences. Adam was family.

"I like hanging out with her." Harper is full of questions and curiosity in a way that surpasses even Carl's propensity for chatter. Shane suspects this conversation is not about his friendship with Quinn at all now, but looking out for his sister. "As long as she wants to, I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." He watches the road, observing the deserted world around them. "We're going to practically be in Alabama, aren't we?"

"According to the map, I think we'll be able to see the shore on that side."

"Huh. I haven't been that far west since we moved to Georgia. We came in on the bus from New Orleans. Micah remembers the trip, but I was just barely three then. I always wanted to go there one day, where I was born."

"You never went back to see family?"

He shakes his head. "None there that I know of. My dad died when I was just a couple months old, and he was a foster kid like Mom was. They were both only seventeen when I was born."

Shane honestly hadn't realized Jesse and Harper weren't full siblings, so he files that away. Quinn is also younger than he guessed by about five years.

Jesse's quiet for a few miles, and Shane isn't really sure how to manage a conversation with a child who isn't a natural chatterbox. It seems wrong that he's ignored the teenager, even if Jesse hasn't sought him out like Harper.

"What grade were you finishing up?" he asks, falling back on the old standby of asking a teenager about school, even if that's a moot point in their current world. Carl's said Jesse is fourteen, but that could put him in eighth or ninth.

The irony hits the kid, because he snorts, shoulders shaking. "Eighth. And before you ask, because everyone always does, no, I didn't play sports. That was Micah's deal, football, but he graduated."

That would explain the build the older teen has, if he's spent four or more years playing football. Jesse still has that wiry, unfinished look of a boy who hasn't hit his final growth spurt.

"Rick caught a lot of crap when we were kids because he didn't want to play, not even baseball." 

"Yeah, but I bet you didn't let that stand." Jesse sounds wistful, and Shane makes a mental note to ask Quinn for more background on her son. 

"No, I did not. Just like he didn't let teachers give up on me because I didn't read as well as they thought I should." He thinks Rick had the harder task, because Shane could at least let his fists do half the work.

"Dyslexia?"

Shane nods. "I got it sorted out in college well enough." Prior to that, though, was years of Rick filling in the gaps the school missed. "You read all the time."

"I guess so. Some rereading right now since we don't exactly have a library." He indicates the battered paperback, where Shane can see Neil Gaiman as the author. "I've read this one a few times, you can tell."

"It does look a little careworn. What's it about?"

That question is how they end up two chapters into _Anansi Boys_ with Jesse reading aloud by the time they cross West Point Lake to lead down into the peninsula. 

Once they're all across the water, all the vehicles stop. Until they confirm the camp at the end of the peninsula is safe, the entire group isn't going. 

Jesse tucks his book away. "I'm on watch duty, right?"

"Yeah. You and Dale and Lori." Jesse was deemed too young for clearing the peninsula, although Micah will be going.

"Alright. I'll go find a perch." He does shoulder the backpack as he retrieves his crossbow. Shane opens his door to get out and coordinate the teams going to check the camp, but stops when the teen sticks his head back inside the Humvee.

"Whatcha need?" he asks Jesse curiously.

"You know, it wouldn't be so bad, if you kept the act up longer with Mom. Stay around a while longer." Someone calls the boy's name, and he gives Shane a lopsided smile from under that fringe of midnight blue curls.

Shane steps out of the vehicle and watches him walk away, sorting the entire morning around in his head. If he didn't know any better, he would say the kid is lonely. It seems like an impossibility in Jesse's family, but the idea settles into his mind, and he worries.

The designated Dixon joke of Amy's may oversimplify things, but there's no missing Jesse's attachment to Daryl. Now that Daryl's developing a relationship with Carol and bringing Sophia into the family, maybe the kid's feeling a bit surplus. Shane thinks Daryl would be a bit horrified at the idea, and Carol even moreso, so he'll have to bring it up to Quinn.

"You're thinking mighty hard on something there. Anything I can help with?"

He turns to see Quinn, approaching with her sketched out map of the peninsula. Rubbing the back of his head, he figures there's no time like the present.

"I think Jesse is feeling unsettled by the Daryl amd Carol thing."

"Huh." She taps her chin with the rolled up map, looking to where Jesse is already on the top of the cab of the cargo truck by himself. 

"He's always been a bit of a loner, because he didn't fit in well back home. The school was almost exclusively white kids, and what few kids weren't white, he didn't fit in with either. It's an issue, not fitting in either world by being too light skinned for one and too dark for the other. He say something riding with you?"

"Not directly. It seemed more of a quiet place to test out whether I would stick around after we stop acting like we're a couple." Shane remembers the other tidbit Jesse shared and smiles. "Since he seems to expect a future stepmother."

The sly smile he gets makes his expression widen into a grin. "There is that as a complication. What do you think about that?"

"I like the kids, Quinn. They can always use another uncle, right?" Because the Dixon brothers may officially be cousins, but they're much more like uncles to the kids. He doesn't want to rush toward anything that might end his niche in the family.

She smiles and leans in for one of her lingering hugs. "They definitely can use that."

"Knock it off, lovebirds," Andrea says from behind Shane, sounding amused. "You were only apart a few hours."

Quinn surprises him by swatting the blonde with the map, causing Andrea to make a surprised yelp. "Go round up the others then. We have a potential home to find."

Andrea walks away backwards, as if she's keeping a close eye on Quinn and her improvised weapon.

"If this place works out, want to play camp counselor with me and corral all the loose kids into a bunkhouse? Don't think Beth or Jimmy should be Maggie's sole responsibility, should Dr. Greene fail to grow a brain and follow us here."

Shane remembers the bunkhouses and their tidy little counselor room she described to him. He agrees that someone has to look after their two newest teenagers, and it really isn't fair to expect it to all fall on Maggie while she's recovering. "Yeah, I would like that a lot."

He's in no hurry to be a single man again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried and tried and could not manage a full chapter dealing with the Greene girls and Jimmy just yet. It may end up needing another Quinn POV, but we'll see. Next chapter will be moving into the camp.
> 
> I figured it's been a long time without fleshing out Quinn's kids and Micah as characters, so that'll start happening more.
> 
> I am 99% sure in two pairings, great test chapters in the done bin and all. Y'all want tags? Because both are slow burn, like at least a dozen chapters away, and one will not progress beyond the sweet handholding type stage during the span of the story. Edit: these are added.


	17. Falling Into Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The peninsula retreat turns out to be the safe haven they need, and Shane helps Quinn figure out how to fit Merle into the community.

** July 24, 2010 **

Clearing out the retreat property is almost anticlimactic. Quinn's prediction that it would be evacuated proves true, because behind the double set of gates that allow access to the fenced off peninsula is nothing but animals turned loose to fend for themselves. Xander's keen sense of smell leads them to follow the German Shepherd to the only humanoid remains on the property.

Based on his uniform shirt, the skeletal remains in the fenced area around the equipment shed are those of the maintenance man Quinn said lived full time on the property. They'll never be able to tell if he was sick or bitten before he ended things on his own terms, not with the level of decay assisted along by the Georgia summer. Quinn directs Merle and Micah to dig the man a grave, leaving the pair to work while the rest wait on the caravan to arrive.

"What are we going to do about all the loose livestock?" Shane asks, watching as a goat blissfully eats the lower branches off a willow tree near the water line.

"I guess he turned them loose of the paddocks up near the gates, but I'm not sure I like the idea of them being near the entrance. I think maybe we relocate the paddocks down this way, between the bunkhouses and the first set of cabins."

Shane scans the open area and nods. Having something at the entrance that could attract walkers due to natural noise making seems like a bad idea. The goats and sheep don't seem to be making a racket now, but that could change.

"We should probably prioritize that," he says, pointing to a pile of goat droppings. "I can't imagine anyone is going to want to dodge that on the paths."

Quinn laughs. "Might teach them better situational awareness."

"Not sure that idea would float with most of the ladies. They might stage a coup."

"Who's going to stage a coup?" Andrea inquires as she returns from opening doors and windows in a line of the duplex cabins to let them air out. All the buildings have the musty smell common to any uninhabited dwelling in summer heat.

"The ladies of camp if we leave the goats and sheep loose to poop at will." Quinn's reply makes the blonde laugh.

"That will be the one time I agree with girly squeamishness."

The caravan of vehicles pulls into sight, driving down the big circular loop and coming to a halt nearest the tip of the peninsula where the duplex cabins shift to the larger four bedroom ones. Sorting out quarters draws Quinn's attention away, and Shane joins Daryl's crew to see how to rig up temporary paddocks for the livestock. The kids are set free to capture fat white rabbits and return them to the rabbitry, now that they'll have people to feed them again. The poultry gets to stay on roam, since they were always free ranged.

By the time Daryl's team of livestock wranglers is done convincing goats and sheep into their temporary enclosure, Shane is hot, sweaty, and wondering if the potential for milk and dairy products is worth the little assholes. His right hip is going to be a mass of bruises where a goat headbutted him, and the damned thing doesn't even have horns.

"I tossed your duffel into our room," Quinn tells him quietly. "For some reason counselors got full sized beds. That still good?"

It takes him a minute to process the concern. They have only shared a bed, of sorts, the one night he got wound up about the fire. "That's fine."

He doesn't mind sleeping close to Quinn, although it's been a long time since he shared a bed with anyone. The relationships he's had the last few years didn't trend toward overnight stays, even if he did joke with Rick about women and light switches. The woman who inspired that particular speech was three years ago.

"Alright. We're in the middle bunkhouse, and when I assigned Beth and Jimmy there, Maggie followed."

Although a little old for bunking with the kids, he understands Maggie's need to stay near her sister since she convinced her to leave home. Shane imagines the young woman's protective instincts are going to run high toward her sister for a while. 

"That gives us how many?"

"My three and the three Greenes. Sophia and Carl are a bit fussed about not being included, so I anticipate some overnights being requested. I put the Morales family in one of the mini-lodges, but Rick wants your help swapping out the twin beds in one of the duplexes for a full bed from the unused mini-lodge."

Shane grins. "Guess they don't want to go all fifties sitcom and keep the twins?"

"I offered them the other mini-lodge, but they declined."

"I doubt Lori would like the idea it's meant to be shared if there was a need."

"Possibly. We have enough space now that I spread folks out a bit, only filling one half of a duplex in most cases except Andrea and her sister. They preferred to be close, but not actively in the same lodgings."

She opens a sketchpad where she's drawn a crude map of the buildings, walking him through where everyone is assigned to sleep. The twelve duplex cabins are split on two sides of the peninsula, with the mini-lodges separating the two sets of duplexes. The actual lodge mirrors the bunkhouse placement, with the accessory buildings inside the circular road.

"Did you assign cabins or did they pick?" He asks, amused. The fact that Merle is lodged about as opposite as possible from Andrea seems like something that might not happen by accident.

"I assigned. I actually considered sending Merle over to the staff house, but he doesn't cope well with isolation."

Shane shifts his weight. "Is he going to be okay without everyone underfoot?" From everything he's gathered, Merle hasn't lived alone in more than a decade. 

Quinn looks around, glancing between where Merle is helping Daryl with a bed switch out like she suggested for Rick and Lori. "Micah is almost eighteen. Maybe he should have his own space."

She calls her brother over when he's making a trip back from carrying food supplies into the community kitchen. The older teen has always reminded Shane of Merle, more so than Daryl does. He guesses they ended up with a stronger dose of Dixon genes than Daryl did. Only his eyes really vary from the Merle resemblance, the same green as Quinn's.

"Have you unloaded yours and Xander's stuff yet?" The teen shakes his head. "I'm shifting you to stay with Merle. Figured you might appreciate a room of your own for the first time."

The significance doesn't go unnoticed, but Micah doesn't comment, either. "Not sure a bachelor pad in the apocalypse counts the same, but sure. Xander will be happy to stick around Merle."

Considering the dog is laying in the shade cast by Daryl and Carol's cabin, watching Merle, Shane suspects that's true enough. He's honestly not entirely sure who the dog officially belongs to, since he's seen him with Merle and Micah fairly equally.

"That's settled, but I need to borrow you to help me shift medical supplies. I'm going to set up the bunkhouse between ours and the old staff house as the infirmary."

"Want me to conscript a couple of the kids?" 

"Sure, as long as Jacqui doesn't need them for the kitchens."

Micah jaunts off, and Quinn scrawls 'Infirmary' over what was Bunkhouse A. "Hopefully, we never need that much space, but it's better than stealing away one of the public rooms of the lodge or cramming into a duplex cabin."

Shane agrees with Quinn completely. Having a paramedic is better than relying solely on his and Rick's limited first responder training, but as she likes to emphasize, she's not a doctor or even a nurse. He makes a mental note they should probably find some textbooks of Quinn's willing to learn more.

Getting things nominally set up keeps everyone on their toes until supper. The novelty of sitting in a dining room with proper chairs and electricity really boosts morale. Spirits are as high as Shane's ever seen them.

Rick takes a seat with a laden plate of food. Months of unsupervised chickens resulted in several roosters that Jacqui appropriated for supper. He's surprised to see the woman's helpers include Merle and T-Dog, until Quinn also joins them. 

"That a good idea?" he asks softly, nodding toward where Jacqui is finally ushering her helpers to get their own plates of food.

Quinn follows his line of sight and smiles. "Jacqui can boss him around easily now that she knows he'll listen. It's Andrea and Lori that piss him off."

"Why's that?" Rick asks. Lori hasn't joined them yet, procrastinating by fluttering around the kids at a separate table as if they don't have their own parents and most are old enough to serve themselves.

"Why would he behave for Jacqui and not the white ladies?" The smirk Quinn directs Rick's way makes his brother squirm a little before he nods. "It's not about race. It's personality. Jacqui stands up for herself without implying he's trash in the process."

Having seen Quinn conversing privately with Jacqui a few times since the confrontation on the roof, Shane thinks he might ask Quinn if she's been trying to make sure there's another person capable of anchoring Merle when he slips into a flashback. Jacqui seems like an odd choice until you ignore skin color and consider personality instead.

Soothing irritated nerves is definitely not Lori or Andrea's best skill. It's not Shane's either, which is why having Rick and Quinn around him is always a good idea.

"Okay, that maybe makes sense, but what about T-Dog?" Shane queries, genuinely curious. The two men aren't exactly friendly, but their body language exudes tolerance, at least.

"Both men can cook, better than any of the women except Carol or Jacqui, so might as well give them some common ground. That fried chicken? That's Merle's recipe. The biscuits are T-Dog's, and he's a little worried because he's never used goat butter."

Shane picks up one of the fluffy biscuits and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "Can't say I don't notice a little difference, but it's not a bad one. Who made butter?"

"It was in the freezer. Whole kitchen was up and running still off solar power. They hadn't stocked for the summer season yet, but their local products were still useful."

One of the reasons their 'biscuits' at the quarry were basic, barely passable drop biscuits was the lack of butter. Fresh dairy is definitely worth the poop that had to be cleared from various areas of the property.

"Did they leave instructions? Because I will figure out how to milk goats if it keeps us in butter," he declares.

"Yeah. They wrote these little homemade, spiral bound books on all the skills taught here. If you're serious about learning to milk, Maggie can teach you."

"Not a skill you can pass on?" Shane teases, opting to try the chicken next and making a noise that doesn't belong at the supper table. Quinn and Rick both eye him with amused expressions. "Can he cook more than fried chicken?"

That makes Quinn laugh outright. "Yeah, he was the primary cook back home. He did a training course back in juvie. Not going to end up with tiramisu or tikka masala, but basic Southern cuisine he's got down pat. You do realize he did most of our cooking back at camp, right?"

Honestly, Shane didn't notice who did the cooking. He supposes he just assumed it was Quinn and then Carol. He shakes his head, opting for another bite instead.

"Maybe we'll shake things up and assign him to the kitchens more here. Probably better for him than supply runs, anyway."

Shane actually likes the idea, because it keeps Merle away from stronger triggers and keeps a good fighter at home base just in case. He says as much to Quinn, watching as Rick nods in agreement. Considering his initial introduction to Merle, the agreement is significant.

"I'll talk it over with him. It's not like there isn't plenty for him to do here."

"Are we still going to make the run to Fort Benning?" Shane has been debating that goal ever since they found the abandoned military equipment so close to Columbus.

"I think we should, considering knowing for certain is better than assuming. We might access more equipment, too."

More military supplies is something he certainly won't say no to. "Let's give it a week. Let everyone settle down and rest a bit after everything."

They're joined by Lori at last, with Merle trailing along to take the empty seat next to Quinn. Shane's never been more glad of Rick's sweeter nature than when the man instantly compliments the big redneck on the meal. Merle's surprised smile might be the first time Shane's seen the man turn the rare gentle expression on anyone older than Micah.

Everything finally seems to be falling into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Setting up a few reasons for Shane to interact with Maggie... And to start moving forward a little faster than we have been since Rick's return.
> 
> Eventually, there will be a trip to fetch Morgan and Duane that will have them checking in on Hershel's group, too.
> 
> Just trivia: The goats are Lamanchas, earless (mostly) and no horns.


	18. Some Sort of Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Maggie end up discussing the nature of his relationship with Quinn as part of her trying to come to terms with her assault.

July 31, 2010

The trip to Columbus reveals exactly what Shane suspected. The city is close enough to rubble that scavenging from it probably won't yield as much as Atlanta. It does explain the lack of larger numbers of walkers on this side of the state. 

Bombing Atlanta was a desperate afterthought with not enough planning or supplies, using the wrong ammunition even. Columbus? It went down with all the expertise that one of the biggest military bases in the country could manage. 

Shane wonders how many sacrificed themselves to pull it off.

It gives him the afternoon free, although the team that went to Columbus did scavenge on the way there and back. Jacqui took over those supplies and shooed the team away to be useful elsewhere. So Shane wonders down to the water's edge where he can hear the younger contingent playing.

The children have been cautioned to careful silence for so long that he enjoys hearing them make a racket. They probably aren't swimming, probably because there's only Miranda and Maggie down here as general supervision. When he reaches the sandy beach behind the bunkhouses, he sees all the kids younger than Micah are splashing in the water's edge. None are in swimwear, something they should probably collect to save on laundry, especially for the girls.

Shane halts at the divide between the grass and the sand. His boots aren't really made for the shoreline, so he drops to the grass and unlaces them. He tucks his socks inside the boots, before rolling his pants legs up as much as they allow. Keeping them dry is probably a futile effort because Harper and Sophia are already grinning and calling his name.

His prediction to himself proves accurate, but instead of two small acrobats, he has three this time. Carl hovers just out of range, and Shane tries to remind himself that the boy needs lessons. Probably Luis Morales, based on the small boy staying close to shore. Jesse and Jimmy seem to be making friends, swimming out into the lake once Shane gives permission. 

Beth looks torn between joining the three girls and their launched diving and looking put out that her boyfriend has abandoned her to hang out with another boy. It makes Shane wonder how often she's had to share the teen's attention in the past. She's sunning herself on a towel next to her sister.

That's someone who looks openly envious of the swimmers, but Maggie's still got the special figure eight splint that Quinn insists on to hold the broken collarbone in place. After over a week, her face is clearing up, the bruises fading to less lurid shades now. He knows the unseen effects will last far, far longer.

When his shoulders tire, he calls the boys to swim back closer to shore and wades up to where the two Greenes are settled. While Beth is sunning herself, Maggie's got one of the cedar chaise lounges with an umbrella for shade. He imagines slathering herself in sunscreen isn't her cup of tea with the splint brace. Miranda has the same idea of shade on the beach, but he suspects she may be sneaking in a nap with an additional adult on the beach.

"How are your shoulders not aching? My arms would fall right off if I tossed kids like that." Maggie flutters a hand at herself. "Even without Quinn's contraption."

"The trick is using the water to do as much of the work as you can. They aren't actually heavy until the final bit." Truly, all three girls are fairly light, none yet hitting that growth spurt that signals teen years ahead.

"Better you than me."

"Pretty sure I'm their favorite human diving board."

"You spend a lot of time with kids before?"

Shane shrugs and plops down next to Maggie's chaise lounge. "Just Carl, really. Dated a lady or two with a kid, but not serious enough that I spent time with the kid like here."

"Huh. I would have at least pegged you as some sort of youth coach from the way you are with Quinn's kids, Sophia, and Carl."

"Hard to coach little league or soccer on a county deputy schedule." It was something he turned down regularly, just like Rick, preferring the rare occasion they could dedicate time on the youth fields to actually watching Carl play. As it was, they missed more than they attended.

"Guess you're making up for lost time. Even Jimmy listens to you, and it was hit or miss whether Daddy could get through to him some days."

"It's nice that he does. Kids aren't as demanding as adults, even ones who figure themselves grown. And Jimmy? He's just got to feel someone can relate, and it's hard for him to see your father that way."

"How do you do that?" 

"I might be older, but I know what it's like to grow up that poor and with few stable role models. I'm guessing he looks to your daddy a bit like I did Rick's. The respect is there, but the sort of absolute trust you place in a father? That takes longer."

Maggie's quiet for a few minutes, long enough for Shane to start feeling the heat again after his dunk in the lake. He should probably consider sunscreen himself if he lingers. "Would you be willing to check in on the farm on a run? It's a lot to ask, but I worry."

"I've got no objections. I'll run it by Quinn and see what she says." It's in their best interest, really, if they can get the old man to budge. He may be a veterinarian, but that's still valuable medical knowledge they lack.

The hand that squeezes his shoulder is a bit of a surprise, but less so than Beth's sudden hug. Shane blinks up at Maggie as he pats the teenager's back. "If you girls were this worried, you could have asked at any time."

"He needed time to stew on what he's doing wrong," Maggie says, her hand moving to pet Beth's hair. "And I needed time not to be so pissed off at him."

Beth makes a funny noise that makes him realize she's scoffing once she moves away and looks at her sister. "You spend half of each week pissed at Daddy about something, even before."

That makes Maggie laugh. "True. Should've took my degree and gone off to work for a zoo. Let you end up working with him eventually instead."

Beth makes a face, but she is interrupted in her reply by Jimmy and Jesse calling out to her. The blonde trots off, and Shane arches a brow at Maggie.

"Beth has been the pampered baby for a long time. She was looking forward to college like every overprotected kid does and has been working hard for a scholarship. Now, she's still stuck in that in between. Not a kid, not an adult."

Shane watches the girl interact with the two boys, and thinks regardless of their relationship before the world ended and his earlier thoughts, Jimmy and Beth show little sign of being a couple. She's barely attentive, and he doesn't seem upset when she focuses on Jesse. Even that interaction seems closer to how Harper and Jesse horse around, so at least he doesn't have to be concerned over the age difference.

Speaking of Harper, she and Sophia are venturing a little further out than he's comfortable with, so he calls them back closer. The girls wave cheerfully and start toward shore.

"You said only Carl before. So you and Quinn, that's a new thing?"

Shane looks up at the young brunette, realizing her eyes are green, but unlike Quinn's, they're darker, more leaf green. "Yeah. Fairly recent. Why?"

"Well, you know her past, right? That she's been counseling me because of her own experiences?"

"I am aware." Quinn's history is the sort that would break many people. It just seems to make Quinn more determined to take on the world. She lives by that thrive not survive tattoo.

"I asked her, how she ever trusted herself to be intimate again. That it wouldn't feel like being trapped and powerless."

Shane's not sure why Maggie's talking to him about it, but he thinks they're about to get into unknown territory considering the true nature of his relationship with Quinn. He does have some training, but it's law enforcement oriented, not dealing with the longer term effects of sexual assault. "What did she say?"

"That she didn't think her way of dealing with intimacy and sex would work for me, and I had to find my own comfort zone of who I trusted like that." Maggie gives him a sly smile. "At first, I thought she was just teasing you were unavailable. But then I got to watching how you two interact. Unless she's also sleeping with both her cousins, you two aren't a couple, not in that sense."

He really hopes the heat he feels on his face isn't a visible blush. "You're the first one outside her family to clue in, and they had extra information for eliminating the guesswork."

"What would that be?"

Knowing Quinn's philosophy on being outed is that she would probably already be open if not for their little whatever you call them, Shane sighs. "Quinn's into the ladies. Me and her, it is something that keeps another problem at bay."

"Oh? Which of the ladies has the hots for you and didn't take no for an answer?" Maggie's expression goes from pensive to impish. "Or men?"

Shane laughs, shaking his head. "That is a complicated question best offered over beer and far from innocent ears."

She doesn't object, just keeps smiling. "You'll owe me that beer and explanation sometime soon, then. Someone else's complicated sounds nice for once."

"Alright." He thinks it over for a minute. "Part of why we keep doing it, I'll share now. It's nice, having a family at my back. Knowing someone is there in the night, even when things are really bad."

His mind goes back to the first night Quinn climbed into bed with him, replacing the remembered scents and sounds of the burning building by saturating his senses with her perfume, her soft voice, and that hand cupped against his skin.

"It isn't the same as what you're looking for, Maggie, but maybe it's what she meant. Your safe place with someone else? Perhaps you find it in that kind of moment. The one where it isn't about sex, but about the absolute knowledge someone cares enough to be there even on the bad nights."

Shane only hopes he provides the same level of comfort for Quinn. Even all these years later, over a decade of safety, she still had a nightmare a few nights ago he liked to never get her calmed down from. It isn't just his sake or even the kids that makes him reluctant to end their charade.

"And if I decide I never trust someone as far as sex?" 

"Then I guess you find someone who understands you can be intimate without having sex." It isn't a distinction he could have made before Lori, and now Quinn's just ground that lesson into his soul.

"Harder to find that these days."

"Maybe. But one way or another, they gotta understand some issues aren't negotiable."

Harper comes running with a turtle she, Sophia, and Eliza have managed to catch, and he gives Maggie an apologetic look as he's led away to see there's other turtles out there. When he glances back over his shoulder, she just waves, and he hopes somehow what he said makes some sort of sense. The girl deserves some peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Going to age Beth up a bit in this, placing her at turning 18 in October, so just done with her junior year of high school. 
> 
> My kiddo got to see the first four episodes of TWD for the first time ever when they ran them as a marathon. She is hooked, I think. She also yelled at Rick a lot. Apparently, it's a family trait to not quite get the Hero!Rick idea.


	19. Off the Wagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injury on the Greene Farm reveals Hershel's former alcoholism.

**August 2, 2010**

As Shane expected, Quinn agreed with the idea of checking in on the Greene Farm. She even went one further and suggested they seek out Rick's helper back in King County. Knowing there was another kid out there with a solo adult for protection didn't sit well with her.

King County proved the easy part of the trip. Morgan Jones still hadn't managed his final task as Jenny's husband. It doesn't surprise Shane, since he doesn't think he could put down a loved one, either.

What does surprise Shane is that the man listened to Quinn's request that he allow someone else to lay Jenny Jones to rest. She doesn't use a gun, avoiding the destructive damage that probably intimidated Morgan. Instead, as Merle coolly distracts the walker woman, she slips behind her and punches a knife into the base of her skull.

He hates Quinn stepping that close, but once she made the promise, he knew better than arguing. Instead, he helps dig a grave among the pretty flowers of the once manicured yard so Morgan can bury his wife.

Packing up the Joneses and retrieving what's useful from his and Rick's homes takes them well past lunch, and then they raid the hospital with its wobbly emergency electricity for anything they might possibly need. After a night camped in the old sheriff's department, they head out early to the Greene Farm.

"We sure this is going to be safe?" Rick asks from the driver's seat. They're following Quinn's Expedition down the long driveway.

"Honestly? No. I don't think the man's the type to shoot people down. But whether or not those walkers stayed locked up is a different story entirely."

"Christ, I hope not. I sure don't want to tell those girls their daddy's dead."

When the three vehicles pull into the farmyard, Patricia is waiting on the porch, looking exhausted. The fact that neither man is outside and the blonde is unarmed makes Shane worry for her safety. Granted, Quinn's SUV is distinctive, but being too trusting these days is damned dangerous.

Quinn exits the passenger seat of the Ford, so he exchanges a look with Rick and joins her before they approach the porch. Patricia looks toward the vehicles, obviously hoping for one of the missing young people. It's saddening that she seems resigned when none of the three emerge.

"They didn't come with us today, Patricia," Quinn tells her, voice kind. "But the girls wanted me to look in on y'all and let you know they're safe and doing okay."

Patricia nods, rubbing at her face tiredly. "Would you be able to spare a moment to help me with Otis?"

Shane stiffens a little. "What's wrong?" Knowing from Maggie that Otis was Hershel's walker retriever puts the man at high risk of being bitten.

"It's not a bite. One of the cows got rowdy and knocked him around. I've got him in the downstairs bedroom, and I've done the best I can. But I'm a vet tech, not a nurse or EMT, and I'm afraid of missing something."

Quinn signals her team, and Jacqui emerges with a medkit. They don't leave the property without multiples of the ambulance grade kits. She passes it off to Quinn and announces she'll stand guard on the porch. Shane trails behind the women, wondering where Hershel Greene is that Patricia is alone in caring for her husband.

The big man's labored breathing can be heard before they reach the room, and Shane catches Quinn's alarmed look. If it sounds bad to him, he can't imagine what a fully trained paramedic would be hearing. Otis is stretched out on the bed, pillows piled to keep him elevated.

"Otis? Can you take a deep breath for me?" Quinn has her stethoscope out almost before she sets her bag down.

The man shakes his head, wincing as he breathes in. "Think the lung has collapsed."

Patricia wrings her hands. "Otis was an EMT. But I didn't know enough to treat it without help, and he said it might heal on its own."

Shane's seen needle decompression on television before, since it's one of those high drama issues that the medical shows like to use. He finds that watching Quinn work that needle into Otis's battered chest is just as hair raising as the shows imply. Between that and the oxygen he is given from the small tank in the medic bag, at least he seems to breathe easier.

"Need an x-ray and someone with more expertise, but I'm guessing you've got more than one badly broken rib just from the physical exam." Quinn glances at Shane, brow furrowed in worry. "Where is Hershel, Patricia?"

Considering the old man is a veterinarian, Shane understands the worry and confusion. Patricia looks like she wants to cry, and Otis reaches out for his wife's hand.

"Not really a secret to keep hidden now that he's off the wagon, Tish."

Patricia takes a deep breath. "He's upstairs in his room, drunk as a skunk. Hasn't been really sober since the girls left. He was an alcoholic for years, right up until Maggie's mama nearly divorced him over it. Been sober most of her lifetime until now."

Quinn takes that in and sighs. "I've got a portable x-ray in the stash we raided from the hospital, but it needs to be charged or plugged in. How's the generator power here?"

"Decent enough for that," Patricia answers. "We used to keep an emergency generator at the vet clinic to run equipment, and the one here is better."

"Shane? Think you can convince an old drunk to sober up and save a man's life?"

It would figure that certain duties of a cop never quite fade away. "Yeah. Might want to let people out of the vehicles if we'll be a while."

"I'll take care of that. Patricia? That okay with you?"

The blonde nods, still clasping Otis's hand like a lifeline.

"Is there anything we can help with?" Shane asks, thinking that there's a lot of animals likely going neglected right now.

"I turned the horses out to pasture and the chickens are fed, so they're fine. The cattle have plenty of water and grazing, so they should be good."

"Alright." Leaving the couple in the bedroom, he walks Quinn as far as the entryway. "We need to make another effort on getting them to leave. I can understand if the old man doesn't want his family members in that barn put down, but we can leave them locked up."

"Do your best to talk Hershel into it. I'm not sure that even his injury will dislodge whatever loyalty Otis has to the man."

She steps outside, leaving Shane to face the stairs. They creak like old houses tend to when he climbs to the second floor, wishing he asked what room the man is in. The two rooms immediately off the stairs are obviously Maggie and Beth's. The teenage girl's looks well lived in, but Maggie's has that bland look of a childhood room not currently lived in but being visited. He wonders where Maggie lived before the dying world sent her back home.

Ignoring the bathroom between two rooms, he checks and confirms the room next to it was probably the late brother's room. Unlike Maggie's room, it shows signs that Shawn lived on the farm still. Quinn probably knows for sure, because she's spent a lot of time with Maggie, whereas Shane's spent more time around Jimmy and Beth, who doesn't talk about her family much yet.

There's only one last door, and it's shut tight. Shane raps his knuckles against the wood. "Dr. Greene? It's Deputy Walsh. Do you realize you've got a man in need of medical care in your home?"

There's a mumbled response, but it doesn't seem violent, so Shane opens the door. The stench of alcohol excess and unwashed body hits him in a wave, reminding him of some of his least favorite job duties. Empty bottles are lined neatly along an immense antique dresser. He wonders where a teetotaler found this much liquor to pickle himself with.

"Dr. Greene?"

"Don't call me doctor."

Shane spots Hershel huddled in a small alcove of the room that has a small loveseat tucked away, probably a grotto the late Mrs. Greene enjoyed from the look of the decor. The liquor bottle decorations continue there, although the bottles on the delicate coffee table all still hold their dangerous contents.

"Alright, Hershel. We need you to sober up. Your man Otis is in a bad way, and Quinn doesn't feel up to treating him solo."

"It might be kinder to just let him die."

Shane controls the surge of anger at the man's words with years of practice, resenting him writing off Otis's loyalty. "Didn't take you for the uncaring asshole type. Thought Christians were supposed to hold all life sacred."

Hell, the man keeps his undead wife and stepson 'alive' rather than lay them to rest because he believes that so much. It's one thing to lose hope, but to shift so far down that he is willing to let Otis suffer makes Shane want to drag the man bodily from the room and force him to work.

"Do you honestly see any of God's work still in the world we inhabit now?" The bleary eyes of the old man are trying to focus on Shane.

"Never been a religious man, so maybe that's to my advantage now. I don't have any disappointment in a higher power to reconcile. What I can tell you is that I don't intend to give up hope as long as I have a family to care for."

Shane isn't a father, and he may never be one considering the narrow scope of the world now. But his family goes beyond blood ties, with loyalty and affection being the binder instead of genetic accident. It's an even larger family these days, because he knows he's as much an honorary Dixon as a Grimes now.

That unconventional family format is why it makes him angry and frustrated to see a loyal couple like Patricia and Otis rejected. They could have left with Maggie and the kids, but didn't want to abandon Hershel.

"My daughters trust me so little that they left without a word."

Shane crosses the room and plucks the half empty bottle of whiskey from Hershel's fingers. The man doesn't fight it, just letting his hand fall to one knee. "So you just give up and don't fight to earn that trust back?"

Hershel starts and stops a reply several times, which lets Shane speculate on how soused the man actually is. It's hard to tell on some people, especially long-term alcoholics who learn to function around the liquor. He sets the bottle down out of reach.

"How are they doing? Is Maggie healing well?"

At least he asked. "They miss their father. Beth is learning some survival skills with our hunters and teaching the other kids how to milk goats and care for chickens. Maggie is doing as best she can with the reminders she's still got."

Rubbing at the unkempt facial hair on his sallow face, Hershel absorbs that. "What's wrong with Otis? Did he get bitten?"

"Cow slammed him into something. Messed up his ribs something bad. Quinn says he's got a collapsed lung, but she's uncertain about the state of his ribs. She's good at what she does, Hershel, but she's a paramedic."

The veterinarian manages to get to his feet without tipping over, but he's unsteady. That alarms Shane, the idea of him giving medical care in this shape. "Why don't you get a shower while I see about some food for you? Otis is stable for now."

Hershel thinks it over and looks at his shaking hands before nodding and disappearing through a door. As soon as Shane hears the shower start up, he confiscates the alcohol bottles. No sense leaving temptation around.

Back downstairs, he finds Patricia and asks about getting something bland for Hershel to eat. "Need hydration and food to help him steady out if he's been drinking steadily since the kids left."

By the time Hershel comes downstairs, neatly dressed and shaved, but holding the rail so he doesn't pitch headfirst down the stairs, Patricia has fruit laden oatmeal on the table. She sets a pitcher of chilled water alongside a glass of juice.

Based on the grimace on Hershel's face when Quinn enters the room with the lurid yellow IV bag, the old man knows what it is. "Steady diet of poison means you're probably malnourished," she scolds mildly.

Hershel doesn't argue, just rolls up his sleeve and lets Quinn set the IV needle in his arm to let the contents of the banana bag trickle into his dehydrated and mistreated body. Shane knows the concoction of thiamine, foliate, and magnesium well, seeing nurses set it up for many an injured drunk hauled into the ER. He does wonder if Hershel knows what it is from being one of those drunks.

Shane steps out onto the porch to consult the others, concerned about how long this is going to take. "Might want to run back to camp," he suggests.

Rick looks both anxious and relieved at the suggestion. "Seems wrong to leave y'all here."

"I think we're safe enough, and with the radio still a little unreliable, we shouldn't worry everyone by being out an extra night. You can always send teams back tomorrow bright and early."

Merle frowns, but nods. "Me and Jacqui stay with you and Quinn, let Rick lead the rest back."

Micah shifts restlessly, as if he wants to protest, but he subsides at a stern look from Merle. None of the others protest, although Rick looks a bit guilty.

"Maybe this will convince them it isn't safe on their own here," Rick suggests.

"We can hope." Shane turns to Merle, as he's the most familiar with the medical gear aside from Quinn. "Any supplies you think we need off the cargo trucks?"

"I'll go grab what they might need," the redneck acknowledges. "Limited in what they can do, but we've got some useful bits."

It takes an hour to shift supplies and send the cargo trucks on their way, trailed by Rick in the Humvee. Shane knows they're facing a few more hours before anyone will trust Hershel to be clear headed and steady handed to deal with the bone fragments the x-ray revealed in Otis's chest.

"Three of us for watch. Who wants the first round to get some sleep?" Shane asks Jacqui and Merle. Food is easy enough, considering one of their cargo trucks is military issue they nicked from the abandoned National Guard camp in King County. They have MREs in plenty.

"Why don't you crash first, Shane?" Jacqui suggests. "You've been awake the longest due to watch. I'll take the first watch, and Merle can wake you after his shift."

It works for him, so Shane makes short work of an MRE trying real hard to be chicken fajitas and bids Quinn goodnight where she's still babysitting Hershel. Sobriety is settling in some for the veterinarian. 

"Your people can either sleep in one of the girls' rooms upstairs or the couch downstairs." He sips at the glass of water in his hand almost mechanically, and Shane can picture him treating the alcohol the same way.

"Thank you for the offer." He's gotten spoiled by being back in a bed, so he's glad not to be crashing on the floor.

Upstairs, the idea of sleeping among the frills and memorabilia of a teenage girl doesn't appeal. Hershel obviously doesn't want anyone in Shawn's room. That leaves Maggie's room, so Shane uses the bathroom and strips down enough for comfort before stretching out in the full sized bed with its green geometric quilt. He wonders idly if there are things Maggie and Beth might want from this place that were not considered necessary to life on the road.

He decides he'll consider it after some sleep, maybe after asking Patricia. Tired from the constant wariness required of being out in the open, he falls asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Otis... At least this one won't be fatal.
> 
> Story reminder: this isn't a Judith as Shane's daughter story.


	20. A Safe Flirtation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Greene Farm ends up fully abandoned, and Shane cajoles Maggie out of low spirits over her father's lapse in sobriety.

**August 4, 2010**

It takes two days for Hershel to declare Otis fit for travel, and Shane is amazed at the resilience of the human body. With the rough shape the farmhand was in when they arrived, he honestly thought the man would be bedridden longer. But since that’s apparently a bad thing in keeping lungs clear of infection, it’s time they moved on.

Hershel didn’t initially want to leave the farm, but when Patricia jutted out that chin of hers and told him he was a damn fool going to be keeping his own company, he caved. Shane can admire the man being reluctant to leave the cattle to their own devices. Today is the first of several trips that will deposit the cattle on a peninsula far enough away from the one they’re settled on to not attract undue attention.

The chickens and horses get to go home to his people though, and he thinks it’ll cheer up the two Greene sisters as much as having their father safe from his delusions. Annette and Shawn Greene are laid to rest on the farm, along with the various neighbors in the barn.

As they pull off the farm, everyone towing that can run a livestock trailer, Shane watches Hershel take a moment before putting the Suburban in gear to follow. The older man still looks haggard, as if he’s the one that survived the near-death experience and not Otis. That’s what falling off the wagon that hard can do, he knows, but he hopes it doesn’t upset the man’s daughters.

When they reach the camp peninsula, only two vehicles make the turn to go south. The rest keep curving north and then back east. Daryl took a team up and put in one hell of a fence line for a day’s work yesterday. They’ll reinforce it even more later, but honestly, Shane can’t see walkers getting to the cattle without help.

The nature of the river and lake should help hide the herd as well. It’s the best they can do without firm walls, and their group is too small to build stockades for resource heavy livestock like cattle.

“They’ll be okay without a real barn for a while, right?” Rick asks Hershel, watching as the cows from his livestock trailer venture out to explore their new home. Shane’s best friend looks a little wide-eyed, since this was his first time hauling live animals. Damned cows don’t stay put like a normal load, weight wise.

“With all the wooded areas, they’ll be just fine. They’re used to being outdoors during the summer anyway. We’ll just need to make sure they have something by winter in case we get ice or snow. Since this isn’t pasture land, we might need to find and haul hay from fields or farms.”

“Can we convert some of the wooded areas to pasture?” Shane doesn’t know much about what is needed to grow hay or whatever else pastures are seeded with to feed livestock.

“It would be advisable. Maybe some of the interior of the peninsula, just to leave the trees as sound breaks and to keep them from being seen.” The veterinarian sighs. “Eventually, it might be worthwhile to have some folks living on this peninsula as well.”

“Not until we know more about how things are going to cycle down,” Shane cautions, remembering the bandit group too well for his own peace of mind. Their group is still too small to consider splitting them up, but maybe if they find more survivors. Surely they can’t be the only ones left in the world.

Herschel doesn’t argue with that, and they’ve got enough daylight for more trips. With each trailer hauling less than ten cows per trip, it’s not a fast process. He hates burning through the gasoline, but reminds himself it’s just going to spoil eventually anyway. Might as well use it for future planning, like relocating a herd of cattle.

By the time dusk is starting to fall, half of Hershel’s cattle are safely enjoying their new home, with a vast area to roam and explore. There’s not room to park all the livestock trailers inside their own secure fence, so those are left in the wooded area north of the gate. Eventually, they’ll fence that in too, but they aren’t dying for the space just yet.

Beth and Hershel have a teary reunion, but he and Maggie are a little brusque with each other. Shane gets the feeling that Hershel still doesn’t quite understand how to cope with Maggie’s recovery. With Quinn busy after supper and all the kids playing some board game in the dining hall, he’s the only one that notices Maggie slipping away. Snagging a couple of beers, he follows. She can always tell him to piss off if she’s not wanting company.

He finds her slumped in a rickety old lawnchair down by the kayak and canoe storage. It’s on the opposite side of the peninsula from the swimming beach, a smart design to keep the two activities from entangling dangerously. Making enough noise she can’t miss his approach, he taps her shoulder with the cold bottle.

“Wasn’t sure what you aimed for, but these aren’t half bad,” he says. It’s not a national brand, but some semi-local brew out of Atlanta. He’s seen Maggie with beer in a glass before, so he knows she’s not a teetotaler due to her father’s alcoholism.

She takes the bottle and eyes it for a minute before twisting the top off and taking a drink. “Not too bad. How long until you think Merle and T-Dog team up to figure out a brewery here?”

Shane laughs as he snags a plastic bucket and turns it into a seat. “Probably not long. Might have to shift away from beer to something else, depending on supplies.”

“I sense vodka in our future.” She peels at the label as the bottle starts to form condensation in the August humidity. “The ones who came back said Daddy was drinking again.”

“Yeah, he was.” Shane isn’t going to lie to Maggie. He’s always thought hiding an addiction from the rest of the family does everyone a disservice. “But I suspect the shame of not helping Otis right away may keep him sober another few decades.”

When she doesn’t speak again, just sips at the beer, he does the same, looking out over water they can’t really see much of being on the eastern side of the peninsula now. He can hear the waves lapping at the shoreline, though, and thinks that once the cattle drive is done, he’s going to take one of those canoes out to explore.

“Ever gone canoeing?” Shane queries when he finishes his beer. With her broken collarbone only two weeks into healing, she probably shouldn’t go yet.

Maggie shakes her head. “No. It just wasn’t the type of family activity we did, going camping or boating. Had some friends at college that liked to hit up the lakes or rivers, but I was usually working to help pay my way for college itself. Vacations seemed frivolous.”

Every time someone tells him something like that, Shane’s glad that playing football gave him freedom from a lot of the tribulations the average scholarship student went through. He did work, because no college kid wants to not have spending money. But meals and housing were never part of his concern. “Never did hear what you majored in.” He chuckles softly. “Hell, I don’t even know exactly how old you are.”

“I turned twenty-three in June. I just finished my first year of veterinary school when the virus started spreading. That was the plan for me, taking over Daddy’s veterinary practice after a few years of working together. Shawn wasn’t cut out for college and Bethie? She’s been in love with music since she was old enough to know what it was.”

“Doesn’t much sound like being a vet was what you wanted to be.” Maybe that’s the advantage of no pressure from family for Shane. He could have taken his degree in philosophy, and no one really would have paid attention. Technically, he didn’t even need his degree for being a deputy, but there was always the nebulous thought that one day Rick would get bored with being on patrol and they would both move up the ranks.

“It wasn’t, not really. Not like you hear kids declaring in high school of what they’re going to be. It was just an assumption that I would, since the others wouldn’t.”

“What else did you consider?”

“Nothing seriously, although it was always fun to screw with those aptitude tests to make it cough up a different answer every time. Think it worried my stepmother to no end when I left the one recommending I enter politics on the kitchen table.” There’s enough moonlight now that he can see it when she smiles over at him. “What about you? Something sports or criminal justice?”

Shane snorts, peeling the label off his bottle. “That’s what everybody guesses. I have myself a nice four-year degree in communications.”

“So I’m guessing being a cop wasn’t your career goal in college, either, then.”

“Nah. Had a vague idea of working in Atlanta in television or something. Even did an internship at the PBS station one summer for a few weeks. But then Rick decided he wanted to be a deputy, and I figured what the hell. Sounded like a good enough job.”

“He strikes me as the type who had the toy badge and sheriff’s hat as a kid.”

“Cowboy hat actually. Had these damned red leather cowboy boots that I think he tried to destroy all picture evidence of.” Shane grins, remembering just how many copies of those photos Rick’s mother had. “Rick’s love was history for a long time. He was thinking of being a teacher.”

Whether or not Rick’s career change was due to deputy pay being better than teacher pay, plus getting to miss out on paying for graduate school, Shane isn’t entirely sure. He does know that Carl changed everybody’s lives and tied them back to King County.

“I guess both of those degrees aren’t really all that bad for deputies. Better than scraping through high school like some.”

Considering deputies like Leon, Shane has to agree a little bit there. He’s met plenty of cops that didn’t have college under their belt, but the extra years to blow off steam and mature definitely helps. The ones that really excelled with just high school were usually the military vets. Years in the service tended to drag you to maturity even better than college did.

“Not much use for them here, not like yours or Quinn’s.”

Maggie doesn’t argue, but she does ease herself to her feet. “I best go see if Daddy’s lured Beth out of the bunkhouse yet. I think it’s better that she stay with kids her own age, but he’ll probably be fussy that there are boys in the bunkhouse.”

Part of Shane can understand that concern, but the other part is thinking that Jimmy or Jesse would be a special sort of stupid to try to romance Beth in a communal room shared by so many people. That’s ignoring that Shane and Quinn are all but sleeping in the same room. He tucks the bucket and lawn chair back out of the way and gathers up their bottles.

“You think your daddy will be okay if Jimmy sticks with Quinn’s kids?” he asks her as they follow the small path up between the buildings back to the loop road. 

“Honestly, I don’t think he wants responsibility for Jimmy at all, but he couldn’t not look after him after his foster parents disappeared. Plus he will turn eighteen in April. Why?”

Shane knows the teenager’s foster parents never returned from a trip to retrieve an elder family member from her retirement community in Florida. The longer he’s around the kid, the more Shane hates that he doesn’t seem to belong to anyone. “I think it’s good for him to have a family that isn’t contingent on him dating a specific person.”

“Oh.” Maggie pauses at the path up to the dining hall, still well lit and populated. “Makes sense in how they’ve been behaving around each other.”

He is glad Maggie noticed it too, that the teens seem completely disinterested in each other, but officially aren’t broken up. Even with Hershel temporarily out of the picture, Jimmy seems to think his acceptance in the community here is linked to Beth and Maggie.

“That’s sweet of you, you know, to make sure he settles in better.”

That just gets her a shrug. It isn’t anything special to make sure a kid who already had the odds stacked against him gets a little extra reassurance. “I’ll talk to Quinn about it, but even if she feels like she’s at her kid limit, he’s old enough to mostly just know he’s got a guaranteed someone in his corner.”

Shane can manage that, easy enough. While he’s old enough to be the teen’s father due to the eighteen year age difference, Jimmy’s probably going to be far more accepting of a big brother role. It was the one thing he appreciated about Rick’s parents, that they never tried to replace Shane’s mother. He seriously doubts Quinn won’t step up, too. She’s practically adopted Glenn, and the kid’s in his twenties.

As they approach the doors into the dining hall, Maggie drops a hand on his forearm and smiles. “You still owe me that story about why you’re hiding behind Quinn, you know.”

Laughing, Shane promises they’ll try it tomorrow. “Still plenty of beer stashed away.”

The brunette lets him go and opens the door, her smile widening. “It best be a good one after all this wait.”

There’s no missing the undertone of flirting that just slipped into her tone, but she’s gone before he can really analyze it. It’s possible she sees him as safe to venture out of her shell after the attack, considering his closeness to Quinn despite his admission they aren’t a couple. Shane is fairly certain the checkered history of him and Lori will probably kill any interest the young woman might be forming. Maybe he should nudge Glenn her way, to see if they have anything in common. 

It would be far more likely than encouraging any interest in himself. It’s not a huge age gap, but damn, the years between twenty-three and thirty-five seem like decades in how he feels nowadays. Maggie definitely deserves someone far less jaded and with a less misspent youth behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many stories I have planned either eliminate Jimmy or disregard the kid, so I decided for once, someone needed to just adopt him up. In this he's about seven months younger than Beth, but also just finished his junior year of high school.
> 
> But now our first inkling of Shane/Maggie, plus clearing the way for Beth/Glenn, even if the lion's share of that will take place in the sequel.
> 
> Next chapter will be more of a time jump, and feature a discussion where the group finally gets nosy enough to ask about Merle's racist background and how he ended up in a mixed race family group. (Aka filling in more of the blanks on Quinn's background). Merle will get a story after Beth/Glenn, as neither sequel will be terribly long.


	21. Nothing He Won't Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merle finally explains the oddity of his racist remarks versus his mixed race family after being asked during a card game.

August 31, 2010

A month at the lake has Shane feeling the pressure of leadership much less. It's not just fully sharing the lead with Quinn, but also the security provided by the lake border on three sides. They do get walkers, but not in large numbers due to a series of roadblocks that make it difficult for larger herds to get close.

They spent the time systematically stripping the nearby resorts and marinas of supplies. Their peninsula now has a dock that can handle larger craft than canoes, which Shane is nudging one of their two primary boats up to right now. He took out a team of six to clear out a marina on the Alabama side, a big success. 

"From the look of those grins, y'all scored big time," Maggie says, watching as several folks who didn't go on the run head down the dock to start unloading the waterproof containers onto wagons to take up to the lodge. Since they don't really need the living space, Jacqui is turning the place into a massive warehouse, one load at a time.

"We did. Need to mark the map to send trucks for the fuel." The diesel fuel stored in most marinas is not something anyone wants to figure out how to tow over the water. It's also stored further out than where they live for safety concerns.

Maggie opens a storage clipboard and makes a note. Her injuries shifted her to working with Jacqui as a sort of assistant quartermaster, but Shane knows she's been chomping at the bit to get back out and active. That thought makes him realize Maggie's brace is missing.

"Quinn clear you for the collarbone?"

She grins, looking happier than he's ever seen her. "Yeah. X-ray shows it is all clear. I'm supposed to take it easy for a little while, but no more brace."

"I'm betting you're going for a swim this evening?"

"After all this time, oh yeah. Besides, it's good exercise for my shoulder without stressing it, right?"

"Might take the canoe out tomorrow, if you want to go along."

"Sure. I best follow these up and take inventory before Jacqui thinks I've deserted in freedom to move my arms properly again." Maggie pauses though, looking back over her shoulder as she gets to the top of the trail from the dock. "Beers on the front porch tonight?"

"Sure."

He, Maggie, and Quinn have a bet running. Since Shane moved out of the bunkhouse to a cabin three days ago, they're waiting to see how long it takes anyone to notice the 'breakup'. So far, no one has, even with him and Maggie having a drink on their shared porch each night. 

He's not stupid. Quinn assigning him to the empty half of Maggie's cabin duplex has set up written all over it in blazing neon. But his concerns over being far too old for Maggie still stand. Just because the world's narrowed her possibilities doesn't make him a good one.

It makes him scoff softly at himself. The Shane before Rick was shot would never have hesitated if a young woman was interested, as long as she was old enough to legally drink. He did have enough semblance of honor to swear off eighteen year old coeds after he turned thirty, at least. After what happened between him and Lori, getting a taste of family life skewed so badly, compounded by the content friendship with Quinn, Shane is no longer as shallow as he once was.

It probably helps that officially moving out of the bunkhouse didn't change much other than not having Quinn warm and soft against him every night. Finding sleep is a little harder, and he misses the closeness, but there was a point where they thought it might be lasting too long. He makes his way to the cabin, kicking boots off at the door.

"Jimmy? You home?"

That's the other thing they did, Jimmy coming to live with him. After years of foster care, Shane decided the teen needed his own space that was his and only his. Since the duplex cabins each have two bedrooms, Jimmy has the second in his.

"Yeah. Finishing up some painting," the teen calls out.

Shane follows the voice to find the teen has repainted the once beige walls. Three walls are white, but the exterior one with windows is emerald green. "Looks good. Gonna paint the rest of the cabin?"

Jimmy grins, looking accomplished. "If you want me to. Eventually someone is gonna notice me signing out paint though."

Well, that answers his question that Jimmy is aware of the bet. Most of the kids probably do and are complacent in it. "You could always convince them we let you move out on your own."

"That probably wouldn't be hard after Micah got the one next to Merle." Jimmy gathers his painting gear up. "If you're serious about the rest of the cabin, I don't mind. It's a lot more fun than I thought it would be."

Shane looks around the living area. Whoever painted every single cabin interior beige should be commended for the most dreary paint scheme ever. "If there's enough pale blue, maybe?"

"When they started repainting in general, Merle brought back the large part of a paint store. It's all down at the old caretaker's place."

"Go with a pale green if there's no blue. Gonna shower before supper. You gonna head on out?"

Jimmy nods. "I'm supposed to help with prep."

"I foresee a lot of vegetable chopping in your near future."

The teen doesn't seem perturbed by that, so Shane leaves him to get changed out of the sweaty clothes that always are a result of loading up supplies in the August heat. Part of him wants the heat to ease. The other part is worried about keeping enough firewood for winter heating, since every building on the peninsula is wood heated. That's going to be a priority soon, once Jacqui's food supply numbers get where she wants them.

Supper is fried fish, as it is at least three times a week, not that he minds. Shane does prefer the days he didn't have to clean half of them, though. Dessert is cherry pie, thanks to a motherlode of canned pie filling they found in the nearest town, and homemade ice cream thanks to the goats.

Shane ends up on dish duty with Harper, Beth, and Glenn. By the time they're done, the others have settled in to games, enjoying the fan setup of the dining hall that tends to cool it off better than the cabins. He takes a seat that Jesse vacates at a game of spades when the teenager gets invited to swim with the other kids. Setting down his glass of tea, Shane peeks at the score pad and grins.

"Do I get to keep his score?" Considering Jesse is over a hundred points in the lead, it's a good start for coming into the game late.

Merle scoffs, grinning. "New scores so the deputy does get to profit off child labor."

The other players agree to the score reset, so Shane shuffles and deals, falling into the rhythm of playing through the day's gossip. It isn't until about three rounds in that anything serious comes up.

T-Dog looks at Merle as the man tallies the new score, idly shuffling the cards. "Mind if I ask you something personal, Merle?"

The older man looks up from the scorecard and shrugs. "Might as well."

The two men aren't what Shane would call friends, but they get along much better than they did at the quarry. It helps that Merle's been fairly settled since they got here, batted between Quinn and Jacqui, but no signs of another break with reality like he had on the rooftop. Then again, none of his family have been in mortal peril since the either.

"Way you acted toward me, even before the mess on the roof… how did you do that when you've got Quinn and Jesse in your family? I mean if you don't see Quinn, Harper passes for white. Hell, she half looks like she could be Shane's kid. But Quinn and Jesse…" T-Dog trails off with a sigh.

Merle sets the pen down and looks tired, more than Shane's ever seen him. "It's not really your color I objected to. It's just an easy blow to take to piss you off. Grew up like that, where the color was an issue. Did a lot of business with men who definitely had problems with it."

Remembering Quinn telling him about the Triumph's original owner, Shane fills in those blanks. White supremacists weren't uncommon in biker gangs. It had to be an odd juxtaposition to have Quinn and her kids at home, but do business with men like that.

"Then why?" T-Dog looks anxious, but like he's been needing to know for a while. Shane doesn't think it's simple curiosity. Could be protectiveness for the kids, since the man has a soft spot where all the group's kids are concerned.

"Y'all acted like I did something wrong, putting a stop to Ed Peletier laying hands on Carol." The connections fall into place even without Merle looking to where Quinn is playing a board game with some of the other women. Shane still doesn't know everything she went through, but he knows enough.

"You beat him half to death," Dale says, looking concerned.

"Would have finished the job if I could have." Merle frowns at the shock from most of the folks at the card table. "Guess she don't really give two shits if y'all know. Can't stand a man like that. When Quinn showed up on my doorstep twelve years ago… Christ."

The man falls quiet, lost for words, but no one interrupts. "She left Louisiana with nowhere safe to go and two little boys. Wasn't even legal to drink yet. Knew our family didn't care for those not of our color. Her daddy told her that much. But she figured maybe her grandaddy would take Micah in and give her some breathing room.

"She stopped at the diner in town, and some little waitress told her it would be safer to try her luck by my garage. Pouring rain, she just ventures inside, and didn't even have to open her mouth to tell me who she was. Not with Micah beside her."

Merle looks unfocused for a moment. "That beating I gave ole Ed? She looked worse than that. I couldn't see a goddamn thing other than a mama and two boys needing help that I could give. So I did and got over that bullshit about mixing of the races I got fed all my life."

Shane can do the math. He's seen the scars on Merle, who doesn't bother hiding them. Daryl is more private, but that's as telling as Merle's openness. Merle looked at Quinn and those boys and saw a different set of boys and a battered woman… and decided to do what no one did for him and Daryl.

"Who?" T-Dog asks softly.

"Her ex-husband." Merle smiles grimly. "He went to prison, even with her fleeing the state. Fought the cops when he got arrested. Get more time breaking a cop's nose than half killing your wife seems like."

"Jesus," T-Dog mutters. "Guess that would make you want to kill Ed and pissed we didn't stop him first."

"Wasn't having a man like that near my family, not unless he knew without a doubt I would finish the job. I'm not a good man by anyone's definition, but I never hit a woman or a kid or anyone else not big enough to fight back."

That makes Jacqui look thoughtful. "When you lost it on the roof, you went after T-Dog and Morales, not Glenn or me or Andrea."

"Glenn's a damn kid. Plus even with my brains scrambled I could remember he's Quinn's duckling. She'd have shot me herself if I hurt him, episode or not. Same with you ladies, although she did threaten to pop Andrea for me a time or two."

At least that particular area of conflict settled down since they left the quarry. Hell, Shane thinks the older blond might have developed an interest in Merle after he saved Amy's life if the man showed her an iota of interest once his intent wasn't to constantly piss her off. Once he lost the antagonism, Merle stopped crudely propositioning Andrea. It adds to the idea of him being deliberately vulgar to make everyone keep their distance.

The card game resumes haltingly, but for the first time, Shane thinks T-Dog might eventually forgive Merle what he did on the roof. The unknown factor of the odd racism must have been feeding the issue. He certainly seems to watch Merle a little more thoughtfully.

After they conclude their game, Shane falls into step beside Merle in the fading light outside. "Quinn said Harper's father died in prison."

"Funny how that happened, white boy falling afoul of Aryans of all people, right?"

Quinn hadn't told him that much. "Real funny."

He thinks Merle is going to leave it at that, but then the man speaks. "He was threatening to take Harper and had a parole hearing coming up. I asked the man who owned that Triumph if a message could be passed on. Didn't know he lost a sister to a bastard like that. Message ended up a permanent one, and he didn't care that he would normally call Quinn or Harper an abomination. Some things transcend prejudice."

Shane can't fault him even if he knew the message would be a deadly one. Having sweet, cheerful Harper in the hands of the man who nearly killed her mama while she was still in the womb is something he doesn't want to consider. Bastard got his just desserts.

Merle speaks again, but it's a shift of subject. "What are the stakes on this bet y'all have going about the rest noticing you and Quinn are no longer cohabitating?"

With that light hearted note, conversation turns to better things than a man ten years dead of his own foul nature and stupidity. But it's something Shane thinks he'll do well to remember.

There is nothing Merle won't do to protect anyone he's claimed as his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Merle unintentionally offing Quinn's ex...
> 
> This chapter was uncooperative... We'll get Shane and Maggie starting to make some progress next chapter.


	22. You Have a Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie wins the bet on the group noticing Shane and Quinn's 'breakup' and comes to claim her prize from Shane.

**September 5, 2010**

The absolute shit eating grin on Maggie’s face when Shane opens his cabin door tells him someone’s finally managed to win the bet. He props the door open to let the breeze cross through since he’s finished dressing after his shower, even as she steps inside the screen door.

“Who figured it out finally?” he asks, curious as hell. The bet was a mixed one. Shane bet it was going to be one of the guys, Maggie one of the ladies, and Quinn hedged that it would be specifically Dale who noticed first, after Shane conceded to allow Dale separate from his own bet. The teens had all been excluded quickly as contenders, since most of them started running amused interference in the adults taking notice.

“Jacqui. Except she only has half the story, because she took me aside to ask if me living with you so soon after you and Quinn split was a smart idea.”

“Jesus. That wasn’t quite what I expected anyone to think.” Do they really think he’s that shallow? He supposes the indications are there, with the ‘relationship’ with Quinn following Rick’s return and Shane’s eviction from Lori’s good graces. And Jacqui missed that Maggie has her own place somehow.

“I set her straight and sent her to Quinn for confirmation, but you gotta pay up.” She wriggles her fingers at him greedily.

Shane grumbles, more because it’s expected that he fuss about losing than any real ire about it. “This is probably gonna restart Jacqui thinking we’re living together, you know.” 

But he steps into his bedroom and returns with one of the two police caps he still has from his time with the sheriff’s department. He never liked the big stetson hats, and thank goodness, the Sheriff never got so fixated on public impression to require them as part of the uniform. Honestly, he still thinks Rick wearing his makes him look like Woody from Toy Story, but he has to admit that impression made for good interaction with the kids when they did presentations at the elementary school back home.

Maggie takes the cap with a cry of triumph, grinning as she tucks her hair up under it. “Think I could pass muster?”

“Pretty sure the Sheriff would write you up for about six dress code violations,” Shane tells her. Considering she’s in cutoff jean shorts only an inch too long to miss being Daisy Dukes, a sunshine yellow halter top over a black bikini, and sparkly flip flops, yeah, a simple cap isn’t going to pass anyone’s muster.

That just makes Maggie laugh, and she leaves the cap planted on her head. He has no idea why she and Quinn both bet against one of his caps, but it was an easy enough sacrifice. “I really thought Glenn would be the first to notice.”

“If Glenn had a lick of interest in me, maybe he would have, but you’ve overlooked that our sweet little Glenn has been ensnared by a pretty, headstrong teenage blonde.”

Well, shit. After that talk back when the Greene girls first joined them, Shane didn’t even think about the Korean looking twice at Beth. Amy, maybe, but not Beth. “He’s not the first male to lose his observation skills with a pretty girl around, I suppose.”

Today’s a rest day, more or less, declared by Jacqui last night when she announced all her little hunter gatherers had met the quotas she felt they needed for now. She’s not exactly a harsh taskmistress, but the last week has been a long grind of clearing the marinas around the lake. Shane’s spent as much time on Alabama soil as Georgia. “You going down to the beach today?”

Maggie shrugs. “Thinking about it. Unless you want to take the canoe out again.”

Since she got the brace off, Maggie’s been going through a host of activities to strengthen muscles gone a bit lax during her recovery period. She took him up on that canoeing offer, and they’ve gone out every evening before supper for half an hour or so. For a gal that never bothered with canoes or kayaks before, she’s gotten it down pat quickly. “You don’t really need more lessons, you know. Could take someone else along.”

That gets him a frown and a slight narrowing of green eyes. “You telling me I’m being a pest, Shane?”

He sighs, running a hand over his hair as he leans against the kitchen counter. “That was not my intention, Maggie. I’m not bothered by spending time with you. But what Jacqui brought up? She’s not going to be the only one thinking that.”

She huffs, hands planting firmly on her hips. It is an image that would try the limits of even a saintly man, Shane thinks distractedly. “Any busybodies can damn well stick it where the sun don’t shine. They don’t get to dictate whether we do or don’t sleep together. That’s our choice.”

That snaps his attention back, remembering the thoughts he’s had repeatedly when Maggie slips a little flirtation by him. “Maggie, I don’t exactly have the best reputation…”

It’s a little hard to finish the sentence with her hand clapped across his mouth. She arches her brow, obviously questioning whether or not he’ll stay shushed if she removes her hand. Gently, he takes her wrist and lowers her hand. “Maggie.”

“I know exactly what you’ve done. You told me yourself. Quinn was also happy to fill in the blanks with a little less self-judgement than you had. If you actually had been sleeping with Quinn, I could see some point to your argument, but you weren’t.” Maggie smiles, a sly but inviting thing. “Have you not wisened up to the matchmaking yet?”

As a matter of fact, yes, Shane had taken note that Quinn assigning him the duplex cabin that shares a wall with Maggie’s was likely deliberate. She seems to have this idea about him and Maggie that he suspects Maggie either shares or at least thinks amusing enough to test out a bit. “I am twelve years older than you.”

“Which would mean more if I were some sixteen year old, and you a near thirty grown man. I am no innocent teenager, Shane. I sowed my wild oats when I hit college and probably made sure my daddy lost a good portion of what hair didn’t go snow white in those college years.”

Shane still has ahold of her wrist, and she looks down, so he lets go. “Or is it because you think I’m something fragile that will break because of what happened in that pharmacy? Or damaged?”

The way her voice changes then, becoming hesitant in a way that makes him wonder what dwells in her nightmares, claws into something deep within Shane’s chest. “Hell, no, Maggie. If either of us is damaged, it would be me, not you.”

He blames the inaction on that hesitant note in her voice when Maggie grabs the lapels of his shirt and kisses him, the cap slipping off her head to fall to the floor. There's no hesitation in the contact on her part, and Shane responds to the enthusiasm quickly despite his better intentions. Trapped between Maggie and the counter, he gives in to the delight of the contact and slips his hands onto her hips drawing her close instinctively.

There's still a part of his mind urging caution. Shane lets her lead, keeping his touch light as he brushes his hands against her hips and sides. The rest of his mind is thrilling at being kissed with such enthusiasm.

"Maybe I should have brought popcorn."

Quinn's voice startles them just enough to end the kiss, but Maggie hangs on to his shirt as if he might escape. "That would start an entirely new set of rumors," she says over her shoulder, making Quinn laugh.

Shane looks at Quinn grinning through the screen door and shakes his head at her. He presses a kiss to the top of Maggie's head as he gives her a loose hug. There's still a talk they need to have, but it can wait for now. "You just coming by to play peeping tom?"

"Thought I would make sure you paid up, too." Quinn holds up the leather vest she bet, one that Shane suspects she intended to give Maggie either way. It's not the same as the biker vests that Merle and Daryl have, not exactly. It is, however, a nice concealed carry garment, with side laces to adjust the fit and two deep pockets that he watches Quinn slip her little SIG Sauer P238 .380 into all the time.

Maggie pulls away with a wistful smile as Quinn opens the screen door to come inside. She’s not just carrying the vest, because she also has a portable gun safe with her. Setting that on the table, she passes Maggie a set of keys. “Open it.”

When the brunette opens the gun safe, inside is a gun nearly identical to Quinn’s, except that the barrel is a rainbow titanium with rosewood grips instead of the gun being completely black. “Figured you’ve healed enough to start taking lessons,” Quinn tells her. “Most of the men carry nine milimeters, but it splits our ammo better if we don’t all use the same. Plus this will fit your hand a lot better when you’re learning.”

“This is what you carry?” Maggie asks, trailing her fingers across the compact little gun.

“Since they came out last year, yeah. Had a standing order for Merle and Daryl to collect these if they come across them. They found two, last trip. Kept one for teaching Harper and Beth, but you get this one. Shane can sign you out the appropriate ammo when he teaches you, but you don’t get to keep ammo on hand until he certifies you.”

As possessive as Quinn is about her gun, it was one of the clues about how adopted Glenn was by the woman when he realized she’d taught the Korean to shoot and even loaned him her gun on at least one occasion. She owns at least two other handguns, but the SIG is definitely her favorite, her choice for everyday carry. It’s an emotional attachment, a gift from her late paramedic partner.

“I’ll show you several guns,” Shane offers, indicating his own Glock settled on the kitchen counter. He’s been slowly unlearning old world habits of instantly putting his gun in a gun safe, since that delay was dangerous as hell with the world gone to hell. Quinn’s put enough fear of herself and respect for guns in general into all of the kids that Shane doesn’t expect any of them to try to play with one. “If you find that you like a different one better, we’ll work harder with that, but this is a good one to start with.”

“Shane’s the certified instructor,” Quinn adds. “I’m going to have him start teaching everyone to shoot that can’t already, even the kids.”

“You got the parents to go along with it?” he asks, curious. Eliza and Louis aren’t so young he feels uncomfortable teaching them, but he honestly would have expected to hear Lori screeching all the way to the Alabama side of things if Quinn approached her today.

“Backed Lori into a bit of a corner, because I got her to admit that she learned to shoot by the time she was Carl’s age.”

Shane laughs, shaking his head. “Caught that, too?”

“Seriously, Carl’s a cop’s kid. Can you imagine how weird it would seem if people back home ever caught on that he wasn’t even allowed to own a BB gun? I get that she didn’t want him growing up redneck style, which I start to suspect she did and is trying to forget ever happened, but there’s shedding the unneeded parts of your past and there’s being stupid.”

Shane smirks as Maggie looks back and forth between them. “Lori also owns one of these, Maggie,” he tells her. “Not that she’s brought it out of the gun safe she has hidden in the bottom of her keepsakes, but Rick bought her one when they came out last year to replace an older revolver she had for years for home protection. No cop would ever have a wife home alone who couldn’t shoot at least something if she had to.”

For all her faults, he knows that when she chooses to be, Lori is a damned good shot. Rick taking her to the range, where all the local law enforcement shared a facility and brought their families to train, it always sparked her competitive streak. The woman actually held the range record for non-officers on anything nine millimeter or smaller caliber. 

“Maybe you should make her demonstrate,” Maggie suggests. When Quinn looks thoughtful, Shane has a feeling that Lori is about to be ganged up on.

“If y’all can get her to join in, I’m happy to try. I’ve been planning on lessons on one of the islands. The water will disburse sound without drawing anything right to where we’re living.”

Quinn nods. “I’ll tell Jacqui tomorrow is a training day, so no one loses their well earned rest day today.” Then she smiles at them both. “Especially you two. Keep the door shut next time,” she teases, as if she wouldn’t have knocked and interrupted unknowingly.

“I’m going to go change. Shane promised me to go canoeing, and beach gear isn’t the best for that.” Maggie gathers up her loot from the bet and the gun safe, patting the metal case like it’s a special present. “Be right back.”

Once she disappears, Quinn turns to look at him, expression solemn. “You don’t look all that happy for a man who just got kissed rather thoroughly by a pretty girl.”

“You know how complicated it is, and she is a lot younger than I am.”

That gets him a swat on the shoulder, along with a mock glare from much paler green eyes than Maggie’s. “Honey, I’m a lot older than her, too, and I promise you, if she had an inkling of interest in the ladies, I would give you a run for your money there. She’s gorgeous.”

“You’re only nine years older…” he starts, and it must be his damned day for being hushed by women, because Quinn doesn’t even complete the motion with her hand before he zips it.

“Nine versus twelve, who the hell cares in this day and age. It’s not like you’re eyeing up Beth.” Quinn sighs deeply. “She trusts you, both as her friend and as someone who spent his life defending people against men like those that attacked her. Christ, Shane, you were one of the ones there to take those two down, and maybe everyone else doesn’t know how that fire started, but Maggie does, remember?”

It doesn’t feel like he did as much in that pharmacy, between Glenn swinging that bat so hard he scrambled the one guy’s brains and Quinn tasing the other asshole in the nuts, but he can connect the dots anyway. He sighs. “I don’t know how…”

The smile he receives is so sweetly gentle that he thinks, not for the first time, that life would have been so much easier if he could have really been a couple with her. She hugs him, the embrace firm and welcome as always. When she pulls away, Quinn looks thoughtful.

“Don’t box her in, especially with your size and weight. Make sure she’s always got an easy way to halt anything you’re doing. Let her take the lead, as long as you’re ready for that step, whether that’s slow as molasses or tonight. Eventually, it probably won’t matter as much, but you know there could be flashback episodes for years.”

Decades, Shane knows, because it’s been well over a decade since Quinn escaped her ex-husband, and she still has quirks that trace back to that bastard. Quinn always seemed to find his size comforting lying together at night, but she’s used to men like him and years beyond her trauma. He suspects she’s telling him something from long ago as she recovered, because she did date men for a few years before deciding she was tired of trying to be something she wasn’t.

“You seem so assured that it’s mutual,” he says, teasing just a little as he settles the advice into his mind.

“Please, sweetie, you have a type. Lori may be trying to act like some little mousy housewife now because she thinks it erases the mistakes she made before Rick was shot and things that happened after, but eventually even Rick is going to get tired of that and demand she act like a normal person instead of a Stepford Wife. I’ll bet my own SIG that if I asked Rick, you’ve got a trail of bossy ladies going years back.”

Shane has to admit she’s mostly right. The women who lasted more than a date or two were always ones most men would label pushy or bitchy, because they were at least interesting when he wasn’t in bed with them. Nothing ever worked out, mostly because the women who can tolerate a cop’s lifestyle are a unique breed, and Shane had never really felt himself in any real hurry to settle down.

So he smiles, and Quinn leaves with a reminder that he’s supposed to play scout leader to the younger kids after supper, before she leaves him to his thoughts in the cabin.

Saying no to Maggie solely on what everyone else might think isn’t how he ever would have been, before the guilt that covered the entire relationship with Lori. Just like Lori will eventually have to return to her normal self before she drives everyone crazy, it’s time that he brought back more of the old Shane, too. Grabbing his things for the canoe trip, he eyes that light switch by the door and wonders how funny Maggie would find that sermon he once gave Rick.

Maybe he’ll try it this afternoon and find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all knew Maggie would have to make the first move, right? :)
> 
> A little inkling of the backstory I am building for Lori for my stories, of a girl from the way wrong side of the tracks who tried **very very very very** hard to forget where she came from in light of in-law snobbery. Watching the show with BetaDaughter, she pointed out that Lori's personality change when Rick returns is really creepy, and if it were anyone else that the Show's Hero, she would think he was a guy like Ed. Out of the mouth of babes, sometimes, and it really got me thinking on her background.


	23. Practice Sounds Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Maggie's intensifying relationship leads to him having a heart to heart with his foster son.

September 27, 2010

Shane wakes to the sound of rain on the cabin roof. The thunderstorms that blew in yesterday evening meant most retreated to their own little homes quickly after supper. He'd been a little surprised that Jimmy didn't spend part of the evening down with the other teenagers still all living with Quinn, but the teen just smiled and said he liked being home on a night like that.

With Maggie joining them, Shane took advantage of the games cabinet that was stocked from the cabin's prior life. He and Jimmy got themselves soundly trounced at both Life and Uno by Maggie. Having seen the games shelf back at the Greene Farm, he expects that she has a lot more practice at the games than he and Jimmy do.

Checking his watch, since the rain could be keeping the sky artificially dark, he's not surprised to see it is barely past six. He's always had a well tuned internal clock, and normally he would be getting up to get his work day underway. Instead, he sets the watch down and spoons himself behind Maggie. They may be still just sharing a bed, but he's loved having her with him the last four nights.

She makes a grumbling sound. Unlike him, Maggie isn't fond of early mornings, which amuses him coming from a farm girl studying to be a veterinarian. Pressing kisses to the nape of her neck, he listens to the grumble change to interest. 

Maggie rolls enough to see him in the dim light. "Still not sure about this morning person thing of yours.”

"Could show you how getting up a bit early is a reward," he offers, keeping his voice low, watching her expression shift from drowsy to alert.

Since the day he paid up on losing the bet and Maggie first kissed him, they've been on a slow exploration of each other. A lot of kissing and making out that seems far more high schoolish than either of them admit to doing in years, but it's actually been part of the allure, not crossing that line yet. Shane hasn't spent this much time not getting to third base since he was sixteen.

When Maggie smiles and relaxes, he starts with a kiss, waiting until she's pliant and pressing against him, carefully keeping his weight beside and not over her. He leaves her the shirt she stole from his drawer, exploring beneath it while she wriggles. It's an area he has to take care still, since the attack left her with a dislike of having her breasts touched.

When he reaches the tiny boy shorts she's wearing, he doesn't go straight for the cloth. Looking up, he checks and sees only desire, no hesitation, no fear. To tease just a little, he angles kisses along her inner thighs until she reaches the end of her patience.

Maggie's demanding tone makes "dammit, Shane, now!" an order he is more than happy to follow, stripping off the panties to lay her bare to him. When her strong hands grip his curls to direct him rather than halt him, he's smiling even as he complies.

Hearing her fall apart for the first time? Worth every minute of waiting. She's mumbling his name in a soft pattering of words, interspersed with mild profanity and some variations of Jesus that wouldn't fit in any church service.

Shane knows the self-satisfied grin on his face as he crawls up the bed to lay against her on his side would get him razzed any other time. This one, it just gets him a strong leg across his hip. Maggie nuzzles close for a kiss, and he's letting her lead despite being so tantalizingly close right now he can feel the heat of her through the boxer briefs he wore to bed. Sex hadn't been his intent, anyway, even if his body is aching for some sort of relief. He can take care of it himself in a minute.

First, he just wants to enjoy the feel of her against him. Sliding his hand across her thigh and hip, he returns the kiss before trailing kisses down the silky skin of her throat. Her hands slide across his chest before trailing down to his waistband… and tugs. Raising his head, he meets her eyes, seeing only trust and arousal as he helps her greedy hands free him from his boxer briefs.

Shane's already wound up almost too far, so being free to finally feel her around him means he only lasts long enough to bring her back to orgasm because of the side lying position requiring a slow and steady movement. He keeps up a steady stream of words, telling her how she's making him feel, how fucking beautiful she is, and goddamn, how he never wants to stop touching her. Maggie's leg hooked over him, keeping him close, and her eyes meeting his… the intense closeness gives his release an enhanced rush he's not used to, eyes falling closed as his body shudders.

When he opens his eyes, she's smiling at him, fingers dragging along the length of his spine. "That was worth the wait," she mutters softly. She's a little hoarse, and he's damned grateful these cabins aren't the flimsy sort when it comes to the walls. Facing poor Jimmy would be an interesting experience if he had to overhear them.

He presses a kiss against her sweat damp skin, just over the once broken collarbone barely exposed by the shirt she's still wearing. "You will get nothing but agreement from me."

They lay entangled for a while, bodies relaxed together, before her breathing evens out as she falls back asleep. Shane marvels at the fact she's so much at ease with him to sleep so easily while mostly nude against him. Eventually, he tugs the blanket over her and eases away to find a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to slip on to visit the bathroom. 

By the time he emerges from the bathroom, Jimmy's door is open, and the boy is yawning against the door frame, waiting his turn. His blond hair looks like he's electrified himself. "Think it's gonna rain all day?"

Shane shrugs as he clears the way. "Possible. Enough rain already to declare a day off. I imagine Quinn and Jacqui will get some activities together at the dining hall if you're bored."

"Nah. Gonna get a pop tart and go back to bed. Got halfway through my book before I fell asleep last night." Learning that Jimmy has a love for reading was a surprise even to the Greenes. Everyone tries to encourage the habit by adding to the boy's growing library.

As the teen disappears into the bathroom, Shane rustles through the cabinet that serves as a mini pantry, since full scale meals are still a community effort, but no one wants to trek over just for a snack. As soon as he clued in to Jimmy's particular love of pop tarts, he makes sure they've always got a few boxes on hand. Prior to living with Hershel, the kid's never had free run of a kitchen and foods set aside specifically for him. Might as well spoil him while the stuff's available.

Sliding a packet of the hot fudge sundae favored breakfast food onto the table, he starts the small coffee pot. That's another luxury they have more of here than back at the quarry, to Shane's delight. By the time Jimmy shuffles out of the bathroom, there's a mug ready for both of them, and Shane's got a bowl of cereal thanks to a packet of powdered milk.

Jimmy doesn't wander off with the coffee and pop tart, instead hooking a foot around a chair leg and pulling it out to sit. He fiddles with the pop tart packet for a minute, darting short looks at Shane.

"Something bothering you?" Shane finally asks, puzzled by the behavior. Jimmy had been hesitant the first week after they moved into the cabin, but something about being turned loose to paint the place settled him down. Everyone here referring to Shane for anything related to Jimmy seems to also have helped.

"Is Maggie going to move in with us?" His normally confident voice sounds hesitant, almost like a lost child.

Ah. Considering she's slept here most of this week, it's a legitimate question. They haven't actually discussed it yet, but they probably need to. "Is that a problem?"

Despite the intensity of this morning, he's made a commitment to the teenager, too, and if things between him and Maggie are making him uncomfortable, it's a problem they need to work out. When it takes Jimmy a while to answer, Shane sets his spoon in his bowl. "Jimmy?"

The teen finally looks up and sighs. "She's going to want kids of her own. World being different now won't make that go away."

Shane files away that idea, which seems as intimidating now as it ever did, becoming a father. Taking guardianship of Jimmy is different. Relating to a mostly grown teenager is easy. Babies? Not so much. "Then you get to be a brother, right?"

"I don't think Maggie likes me that much. Might be best if I go back to Quinn." The kid sounds so damned defeated, already resigned to being shuffled around like a piece of furniture.

"Jesus, kid. If Maggie can't handle that you were here first, then it's her that won't be living here." As deeply as he cares for Maggie, that feeling he doesn't quite want to admit a name for yet, her rejecting his foster son would nullify everything he likes about her. Quinn's concern that he not back out of committing to Jimmy was something they spent hours discussing, her own years in foster care glittering behind those intense green eyes.

"Really?" The kid sounds younger than barely seventeen, and Shane pushes his chair back to go drag him into a hug. He realizes when it's returned that it's the first time he's hugged the kid in the month he's lived with him. Other than the other kids, he doesn't think anyone has shown the boy outright affection.

"Really, kiddo. We're a package deal, I promise."

Giving him a wavering smile as Shane lets him go, Jimmy finally picks up the coffee mug and pop tart. "Gonna go read."

"Alright. I'll let you know when it's time for lunch."

Watching the teen retreat to his room, Shane doesn't notice he's being watched until Maggie calls his name. She's smiling, clad in a borrowed set of his shorts to add to the t-shirt. He wonders how much of that conversation she overhead.

When she crosses the room to claim a kiss, he enjoys it before she pulls away and goes to steal his cereal. After a bite, she looks toward Jimmy's door. "That was the sweetest damned thing I've seen you do so far."

"You're okay with what I said?" Facing her, her hair ruffled from their earlier intimacy, Shane thinks it will be harder to hold that resolve, but it isn't. It's a promise he will keep. If Maggie can't handle it, that's something about her character he needs to know now.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she says, smiling and stealing his coffee next. "Even if I had other issues with Jimmy, you're his family now. That comes first."

Pouring himself a new cup of coffee, Shane stirs in sugar and feels a surge of relief. "What issue did you have with him?"

"Him and Beth dating when they didn't seem to actually like each other all that much. Even before the outbreak, I think he was more fascinated with the concept of a family like ours than Beth herself. And Beth? She was too kind hearted to break things off when she made that connection herself."

"So as long as he's not dating your sister for the wrong reasons, you're good?"

Maggie nods, finishing off the cereal and taking the bowl to the sink. "Come back to bed. I'm not planning on any babies until Jimmy's probably old enough to be on his own, but I wouldn't mind another demonstration of how they're made."

Snagging her purloined coffee cup, she slinks into the bedroom, her long bare legs distracting him for a minute. He thinks on that idea again, the idea of a child. In general, it doesn't have the lure for him he thinks it does for a man like Rick, but it's the general part of the idea that he needs to let go of.

The mental image of Maggie's slim waist rounding out with their child shoots a surge of want through him strong enough to make him choke on the drink of coffee he just took. Taking a deep breath to settle himself, he thinks on it again, imagining her with an infant as well. There's no sense of unease there, just a complete sense of rightness. Finishing off the coffee in a long swallow, he sets the cup in the sink, heading for the bedroom like she suggested.

The very real sight of Maggie fully nude for the first time, leaning against the pillows and crooking a finger at him? That one's enough to make him growl softly, shedding clothes even as he remembers to keep some of that sudden need to claim leashed and controlled. Practice sounds damned perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the muse has decide it is smutapalooza week. 😳
> 
> One more chapter for this, a sort of belated meet the family Hershel and Shane ending... We'll shift to the hinted at Glenn and Beth next story.


	24. Best Future He Can Ask For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they prepare the peninsula for the future, Shane comes home to a long overdue conversation with Hershel, and follows his advice regarding his relationship with Maggie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter Folks! 😥😁

** October 14, 2010 **

Shane and his team of teenage boys start a project to lay in another level of fencing to enclose more of the peninsula. It's not direly needed yet, but by spring? They're going to want farmland, and he's been led to understand there's plenty of prep work that can be done during the winter. Last week was a lot of ground clearing and chainsaw work, which meant they had a team of guards.

The second week, Otis acts as advisor and guard, his ribs still not quite up to putting in fence posts. The amiable man is happy to chatter with the four boys about ranching and farming, which none of them have any real experience with. It passed the time while setting the twelve foot steel pipe into gravel and concrete. The height will only be eight feet, but walkers can't climb, thank God, and they can put barb wire up to make it even higher.

Week three is welding the steel cross bars into place, a learning process all by itself. They switch out Otis as guard for Merle. Although uninjured, the eldest Dixon is a firm proponent of learning by doing, so after he gives the non-Dixon crew members a few lessons with the portable welding machines, he simply supervises as they work. Jesse and Micah are already experienced with metalwork, so at least they aren't all new to the job.

It's rough work, and Shane could probably borrow some of the others, especially the girls, but part of the reason for the project was something for the boys in particular to work closely together. Speed is less important than teamwork and skill building. Quinn’s been working with the girls on self-defence skills, anyway.

When they return home after the third day welding, everyone is sweaty and pleasantly tired. Carl, Micah, and Jesse scatter to their respective cabins, and Shane's just told Jimmy to take the first shower when he spots the visitor sitting in the porch swing he hung when Maggie asked for one. The blond teen stops, hesitating at seeing Hershel, greeting the vet quickly and politely.

"Go on, Jimmy. Just don't use all the hot water." Shane nudges the boy as he speaks, sending him on his way inside. Figuring Hershel's sought him out to talk about Maggie, Shane snags one of the chairs populating the other side of the porch and brings it closer. Taking a seat, he waits patiently for the man to speak after a quiet, "Evening, Hershel."

This is something he figured would happen eventually. Maggie moved in with him a week after the conversation with Jimmy. That was two weeks ago, and Hershel's been keeping to his self-imposed isolation for the most part, so he and Shane haven't discussed his relationship with Maggie. The man interacts with his daughters quietly at meals, does whatever work he's assigned, and spends the rest of his free time with his Bible in his lap on the porch of his cabin.

Patricia assures Shane that Hershel's finally allowing himself to grieve for his wife and son. It's something everyone understands, so the man is typically left in peace. Maggie and Beth certainly seem alright with the process, occasionally going to sit on their father's cabin steps and chat quietly.

"Jimmy is thriving under your guardianship," Hershel says at last. It seems an odd start to any conversation between them, until the vet continues. "It's good to see him outside of the veil of dating my daughter."

Shane catches the association now. What little Hershel knows of him before he was with Maggie isn't from much personal interaction, aside from the uncomfortable conversation when Hershel was drunk in his room at the farm. Convincing a man to stop trying to drink himself to death isn't exactly a stellar way to start off, especially when that man is assessing his suitability toward his daughter later.

"He's a good kid. Needed someone with the time to focus on him, and I had it to spare." Jimmy is thriving under the assurance that he's not a temporary part of Shane's life, progressing from immature and anxious to please to earnestly hardworking. His friendship with Jesse helps, Shane thinks, even if Jimmy’s closer in age to Micah than Jesse. Neither boy seems to have had much in the way of a best friend before they met.

Hershel’s smile is a pale imitation of anything happy, but it’s there. “There would be fewer boys going astray like I fear Jimmy was heading in the old world if more people thought that way.”

That makes Shane shift and sigh. “Can’t say I would have been able to before. Didn’t have that kind of time, and to be honest, I definitely didn’t have the right mindset to look after a teenager full time.”

“What changed that?” There’s curiosity in Hershel’s expression, and while Shane thought he would dread a meet the parents moment for any woman, he finds he doesn’t find it as bad as he imagined, at least not yet.

“Time, that one’s easy enough. Not a cop anymore.” Smiling, Shane shrugs. “Don’t know if anyone ever filled you in, but Rick was shot just prior to the outbreak. Ended up thinking I had a dead partner. His family needed me. I had to grow up.”

“Some of us do come to maturity later than others.” Hershel chuckles at Shane’s questioning look. “Anyone here can do the math and realize I wasn’t exactly a young man when either of my daughters were born, son. I was about your age when I met Maggie’s mama, my late wife Josephine. She saw something worthwhile. Eventually, I believed it, too.”

Shane thinks about Maggie’s firm belief that his age and previous bachelor lifestyle meant absolutely nothing to the relationship they could have now. “I think I can understand that particular concept.”

“I thought as much. She’s very much like her mama, my Maggie, just like Beth takes after her own mother. It’s a blessing and a curse to have daughters. You want them to be strong and independent, but that means they don’t need their father the same as when they were young.”

“But they do still need you.” Shane remembers the sisters’ fear that something would happen. Maggie had chosen safety for her sister and Jimmy over her loyalty to her father, but it hadn’t stopped her from wishing things were different.

“They do, but now, I’m a part of a much larger picture for them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for that, because when my world spiraled down to that farm and what dwelled in the barn, they needed more than just me. I didn’t see how Beth would ever be able to grow into the woman I wished her to be. I thought she would miss out on so much life, once I accepted there was no cure coming. Maggie at least got to go to college and explore who she wanted to be.”

“And now, you know Beth still has the chance.”

“I see it every day when she comes to sit with me, son. If you asked me six months ago, I would have predicted Maggie success in a world like this, but Bethie? I would have despaired for her. But I forgot one key thing about my baby girl in that.”

“What’s that?” Shane knows Beth was shy and dangerously depressed when Maggie first brought her to Quinn, but since then? The girl’s done nothing but thrive. She’s not as brash and bold as Maggie, not by any means, but there’s just a sort of content happiness in the girl that infects most everyone around her.

“She is her mother’s daughter.” Hershel smiles, something bright and genuine this time. “Annette was a single mother who took on a still grieving widower and his angry and spiteful daughter, and she just persisted until we saw there was light at the end of our tunnel.”

Shane thinks he can relate to that light at the end of the tunnel, so he nods. The situation with Rick and Lori could have gone much, much worse than an anxious conversation with Rick and Quinn acting as a smokescreen until they found their footing again.

“I admit to having concerns, with a certain relationship you seemed to have, but Maggie explained, probably in more detail than I actually needed.” Hershel looks away, and when Shane follows his line of sight, he sees that Quinn is at the archery range, watching the girls, Glenn, and Carol practice. Merle’s with her, his rifle still slung across his back from guarding the fence construction. “It makes me curious that you inspired that sort of friendship.”

“Explaining Quinn is most simply that I didn’t deserve her looking after me, but she’s got a soft spot for lost boys, I suspect.” Shane has wondered, more than once, if Quinn would stay single even with a compatible woman around, because anything long term means leaving Merle to his own devices. There’s a loyalty there he can’t describe, and sometimes envies, and once Shane was settled, Quinn and the kids left at the bunkhouse now share the duplex cabin that Merle and Micah were living in.

“Not uncommon for women, to see through our faults to something valuable within.”

“So it seems.” Shane isn’t sure how to reply, since the conversation seems to be more about Quinn than Maggie at this point.

“I won’t keep you on the hot seat. Once, someone like you wouldn’t have been my first choice for my daughter, but I also know men are infinitely capable of changing. Maggie survived an attack no woman should have to, and she came out of that stronger. I’m not so caught up in my own grief not to notice that you’ve been a part of that.”

“As best I could.” 

“That’s all any father could ask of a man who loves his daughter.” Shane freezes, and Hershel chuckles, getting to his feet. “You may not have admitted it to yourself, much less to my Maggie, son, but it’s written all over you like a neon glow anytime you look at her.”

The veterinarian pats him on the shoulder as he passes him to reach the steps. “ I’d advise telling her sometime soon. Women like to hear these things.” He doesn’t wait for Shane to respond, making his way not toward his usual spot on his own porch, but to the archery lesson. Beth’s brilliant smile when she sees her father watching just as she hits an almost perfect bullseye makes Shane watch a while longer until Jimmy finally summons him that the shower is free.

Their conversation makes Shane quiet all evening, drawing a few concerned looks that he waves away with a half-hearted smile. It doesn’t work on Maggie all that much, because she makes it as far as finishing her turn at dish duty before she captures his hand and leads him home. That word is still taking root in his brain alongside Hershel’s acceptance when Maggie lays both hands on his chest, staring at him with concern evident in her green eyes.

“Something’s been on your mind since I got back from the supply run. Is anything wrong?”

Shaking his head, Shane reaches up and takes both her hands, giving her a slow smile. “Just thinking something over. Your dad came to talk to me today.”

Maggie freezes. “Seriously? I noticed he wasn’t on his porch, but figured Beth lured him away somehow.”

Considering Hershel did spend a lot more time out and about today, he can understand Maggie’s assumption. Even when they left the dining hall, the older man was still there, actually playing a board game with some of the other older residents.

“Yeah. He was on the porch when I got home. Complimented me on Jimmy, then talked a bit about your mama, and Beth’s mama, and both of you girls.”

“You’re smiling, so I guess it wasn’t some sort of disapproving father conversation then.”

“Not really. He did say that once I wouldn’t have been his first choice for you.” He clears the indignant look on Maggie’s face with a quick, chaste kiss. “He said once I wouldn’t have been, Maggie. Now, he gave me some advice.”

“And what was that?” she asks, still looking a little wary.

“That there are things a woman likes to hear said out loud, not just assumed to be true.” Letting go of her hands, Shane cups Maggie’s face. “I do love you, Maggie Greene. I hope you know that.”

All the worry fades away from her expression at his words, and she smiles brighter than Beth had earlier. “I do. Was just waiting on you to get around to admitting it.”

Kissing her is even better without that one thing held back on his part. So’s her smirk when they come up for air, because she says what he already knows. “I love you, too, you know.”

Yeah, she does, and damn if it isn’t the best feeling he’s ever had. It makes him understand why Lori and Rick held on through all the bad times, why Rick was so afraid to confront Shane about his feelings for Lori, and for probably the first time, why Lori herself was so distraught when Rick reappeared after she grieved for him and let Shane comfort her in a way that crossed a line neither of them should have with Rick’s ‘loss’ so fresh and new.

The past is the past, and that detour at least taught him to value what he has right now in front of him. Now there’s just the future to face, one that no longer has the obscurity of the unknown for him. He has a family at his back, a son to care for, and most of all, the woman that loves him as fiercely as he loves her right in front of him. That’s the best future any man can ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although she hasn't read any of the rest of the story, I must thank inkribbon for her impromptu beta read of the chapter to get me to stop editing and post it. :) Ending the stories is always the hardest part for me, connecting them back to the quote that inspires them.
> 
> Next time this series comes around in my queue, you'll be seeing _At This Moment_ , where Glenn and Beth find themselves stranded far from home with only each other to rely on to get back to their families.


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